A Christmas Mystery
by Wendy Vermonter
Summary: A flashback story about Jim and Artie's first Christmas together; A mystery to solve, beautiful women to kiss under the mistletoe, and surprise gifts!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1. Christmas Holiday Mystery

Jim sat, crossed-legged, on the grass in the shade of the varnish car. He absently wiped his forehead with his loose shirt tail as another bead of sweat drizzled down the side of his face. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, blinking at the page of the book lying open on one knee. The words blurred and he absently turned another page. Seeing a chart, he squinted, picking up the book to better see the small print. Shaking his head, he put the book back on his legs and turned another page, searching for something interesting. Suddenly sharp pains stabbed into one knee, making him jerk sideways with a yelp.

"Hey, cat," he snapped, moving the book to look at the tiny kitten now hanging from his pantleg. The tiny claws pierced the material to dig into his skin. "That's a sore spot, you know," Jim said, reaching out to the cat. The animal let go and dropped into the grass, dashing behind the book to hide underneath the other knee. Jim snuck his other hand around his leg to poke at the kitten. It leaped into the air, spun around and landed on the book.

"You're a crazy thing," he said, gathering the kitten into his hands to hold it against his throat. "Now calm down and stop climbing on me." He stroked its soft fur and murmured to it as he returned his attention to the book. "Maybe I should read out loud to you. Do you want to hear about air pressure and clouds and…" The kitten wiggled and leaped from his grasp to drop into the grass again. With a few hops, it hid again under his knee. "You're right, this is the most incredibly boring book I have ever looked at. I can't say I am reading it," he sighed, turning another page. Diagrams of different shapes of clouds were displayed on the following pages. "They actually name different shapes of clouds?" Jim muttered, holding the book up again. "This is ridiculous."

"Jim?" A familiar voice called out as a horse whinnied nearby. Jim looked up to see Jeremy and his son, Seth, ride around the end of the train car. The older man rode on a tall bay while the younger boy sat on a smaller paint.

"Over here," Jim called back, waving a hand toward them. Jeremy and the boy rode closer and then both slide from their saddles. Seth ran over to drop onto the grass in front of Jim while Jeremy walked over and sat slowly, easing himself to the grass. "Coolest seat in town," Jim said, wiping sweat from his face again, this time with his sleeve, "Crazy weather, hotter than heck one day and then cold the next. I am still sweating out here." He pulled his shirt off over his head and wiped his chest and arms with it. He tossed the crumpled cloth onto the grass next to him.

"Yes, it's almost fall," Jeremy said, unable to avoid looking at the healing wounds on his friend. "I enjoy every nice day this time of year. It will be snowing soon enough." He leaned over to watch his son pat the kitten. "You seem to be feeling better, Jim. Are you two relaxing with a good book?" He nodded toward the kitten.

Jim moaned and closed the book. He held it out for Jeremy to read. "He found his book on meteorology. The most boring book I have ever attempted to read. I just look at the pictures." Jeremy laughed. "Do you know there is a name for every shape of a cloud?" He flipped through the pages, holding the book at Jeremy as the older man shook his head and he laughed even harder. Jim finally tossed the book to the ground beside him and turned his attention back to the kitten.

"Watch that animal," Jim warned Seth as the little boy reached under his knee to pat it. "She has claws like a mountain lion." The kitten jumped away from him to scamper in the grass chasing a butterfly. "Ya, the big killer, you catch that bug," he snorted, watching the kitten romp around.

"Has she caught a lot of mice yet?" Seth asked.

"Not yet," Jim said, shaking his head. Just then the door opened and Artemus appeared on the platform. He leaned over to look at the group. "Hey, you coming out here? It must be an oven inside."

"I was but I wanted to see who you were talking to first," Artie winked. "You two want a drink? I was going to grab some beer."

Seth jumped to his feet. "Can I have a beer too?" Artie shook his head and went back inside. Seth turned to see his father's stern look and quietly sat back on the grass to watch the kitten again. Artie soon reappeared with bottles clinking in his hands.

"You may have a pretend beer, young man," he said, handing a bottle to Seth, who grabbed it eagerly. "I think you will prefer a good Sarsaparilla anyway." He handed the other bottles around and everyone relaxed in the shade. Artie turned to Jeremy, jerking his head toward the train, "that car is stifling when it's parked. I had to cook up some meat before it spoiled. All the ice melted in the ice box and thawed some roasts. Not that I wanted to fire up the stove…" He paused, wiping an arm over his forehead. "What is the fierce feline up to?" He watched as the kitten pounced on the butterfly, holding it between its paws and biting it. Low growls were coming from the tiny predator. "You get him, Sophie," he laughed, leaning over to pat the soft fur. The kitten ignored him, concentrating on ripping apart the butterfly. "It won't be long before you are big enough to catch that mouse."

Jim snorted again as Seth looked to Artemus and Jim, "Did she see a mouse yet?"

"Oh, ya," Jim said into his bottle, "She saw one in the kitchen this morning, but was terrified, weren't you," he said, gently pulling the kitten's tail. "She leaped onto my sore knee and ran up my pantleg." The little boy threw himself on his side in the grass, wiggling and laughing. "But if we get any butterflies in the kitchen, we will be safe now." The kitten jumped into the air, twisting, and landing in the grass to scamper underneath his knee again. Artie reached a hand out towards his partner and the kitten peeked out at him; she bared her teeth and hissed, ears back and tiny tail snapping. "Stop," Jim said, pushing his partner's hand away.

Artie leaned back, laughing again, "She is definitely guarding you, Jim." He tipped his beer bottle back, emptying it, and tossed it onto the ground. "I think a big dog would be a better choice but at least's she's quiet."

Seth reached out, pretending to touch Jim, and the kitten hissed, swatting a tiny paw out at him. "She is! She is!" The little boy sat up and looked Jim in the eye. "Hey, you owe me the story, you know. My Dad said we could go for a ride today and I said I wanted to ride here to see if you were busy and you don't look busy at all."

"Wait," Jim said, choking on his beer in surprise at the on slot of words, "wait, my book." He picked up the book and waved it at Artie. "I have to read this and I bet there will be a test too."

"No, you were just looking at the pictures," Seth said, looking at Artie, "he was too and he said it was boring." Jim dropped the book, grinning at his partner, as the little boy turned back to him. "So you can tell me the story you said you would tell me."

"You might as well give in, friend," Jeremy drawled. "He will just keep after you. It's like being pecked to death by a duck."

Jim took a deep breath, "Ok," he sighed, "what story?"

"How you got your horse!" Seth said, climbing to his knees so he could lean closer to Jim.

Jim took a long drink from his beer and tossed the empty bottle into the grass. "My horse?" The boy nodded eagerly. "That was a long time ago. I might have forgotten." He nodded toward his partner, "well maybe if Artie helps me, I can remember how it goes. It's a long story though…" Jim leaned over to pull the kitten out from under his leg and hold her against his bare chest. He smoothed the grey fur and the kitten yawned, curling into a ball in his palm.

"That's ok," Seth said. Artie moaned and laid onto his back in the grass, wiping his face again with his sleeve. "Artie will just have a nap while you talk." Artie yawned and closed his eyes, apparently agreeing.

Jim took a deep breath, "Ok, let me think how it all started…"


	2. Christmas Mystery Chapter 2

Chapter 2. Christmas Mystery – traveling south

"We'll be leaving tomorrow," Artie said to the two men, sitting across the table from him, "and we will out of town for a while." He added, staying vague. "I was hoping to score tonight."

"I'd like to help you out, just for old times' sake," one man laughed, holding a glass of amber liquid out in a mock salute, "but you know it's impossible." The man appeared to be much older than Artemus while the man next to him seemed much younger. They were dressed in historic- style costume, which would be appropriate for the theater but was oddly out of place in the tavern.

Artie leaned closer, winking, "nothing is impossible for you. That's why I came to see you." He leaned back again, waiting for his compliment to sink in. He felt, more that saw, his partner shift next to him. Jim had said it was a fool's errand so he was eager to impress his new partner.

"You're smooth, Gordon," the other man said. He nodded toward the older man next to him, picking up a bottle and splashing more liquid into the glasses on the table. "Another round?" He pushed the glasses toward Jim and Artemus. "Now, it's not that we don't want to do this for you, it's just going to take some time. Come back in a week or two."

"Yes," the first man said, dumping the drink into his mouth. He swallowed and burped loudly, slamming the glass back onto the wood. "Come again when you get back from one of your mysterious trips with your new friend." The man slid a look at Jim, who had remained silent throughout the conversation. Voices around the bar filtered back to them in the darkened recess where they sat. Jim leaned his chair back against the wall, keeping his eyes flickering about the large room. "Maybe if Grant wasn't coming to opening night, the seats wouldn't be all sold out already. But what's done is done."

Jim's blue eyes darted back to the man. He had been studying them, watching their mannerisms, noticing their clothing and tilt to their voices as they spoke. He noticed many details that his partner copied in his disguises. If his new friend new many people like this, Jim thought to himself, then his imagination will have no limits. But the mention of the President's name had startled him. "President Grant? What about him?"

"And I thought you were sleeping with your eyes open, you've been so quiet," the older man said, reaching out to slap Jim's forearm resting on the table top, "though you seem to be drinking in your sleep and keeping up with the rounds!" The group laughed as Jim put his empty glass back onto the table. "President Grant is coming to opening night," the man repeated, holding up a hand to stop more of Jim's questions, "and don't ask me how I know. It's my business to know. After what happened at Ford's theater, we all keep tabs on the politicians in our midst."

"His schedule is supposed to be a secret," Jim said quietly, his eyes flickering to the two men opposite him.

"Secret," the younger man snorted. "You two think you're so secret. Even the name of where you work," he said, nodding to Artie, "the Secret Service. If everyone knows, then why is it called a secret? Is there an office with a big sign out front too?"

"There was but we had to take the sign down," Jim dead-panned. "We hid it in a back room." Looking back at the first man, "We have money to buy tickets. I don't need hand-outs."

The group, including Artemus, turned with looks of shock and contempt, at Jim. "Pay money?" Artie said, "For the theater? That would take all the challenge out of attending, don't you think?" He turned to the two men, "now I've know you both for years. Just because I'm not there every night, like I used to be, doesn't mean I'm not around. So just keep thinking about it and see what you can come up with."

"Why don't you two just go to opening night with Mr. Grant?" The older man said, clearly the leader of the pair. "Or will ya be out of town already on your way to your secret destination?"

"If we told you that," Jim said, "it wouldn't be a secret. Besides I want to bring a good looking date, not sit next to an old man while watching behind me for a crazed killer."

"Well let's hope the crazed killers attend another theater that night." The second fellow added. Quickly filing the glasses again, he held his up in a toast, pausing for the other men to join him. "Here is to safe travels for you two and a safe show for us!" The glasses clinked and the amber liquid was quickly swallowed. He leaned over to Jim, avoiding Artie's look, "now let's change the subject to telling you some stories about your new 'partner'. This guy has tricks you won't believe."

Jim broke into a grin and looked at Artie as his partner shook his head, laughing, and shoved the guy back. "I am all ears," Jim said.

 _Days Later….._

"Tickets!" The small man in a suit walked down the center isle of the crowded train car. "Tickets!" He stopped at each seat, examined the tickets held out to him, and punched a hole in each one. "Tickets!"

"Why does he have to yell that over and over," Jim growled to his partner, as he sat with his eyes shut, leaning against the cold window. He held two fingers out to Artie, his ticket pinched between them.

Artie tugged it away from him and held it, and his own ticket, out to the conductor as the man paused by his ear, yelling "Tickets!" Artie grimaced and leaned away, pushing Jim further against the inner wall of the crowded passenger. "Here," he said, twisting to poke Jim's ticket into the breast pocket of his partner's coat. "Don't lose it or you'll be walking."

Jim squinted through the window into the early morning light of the sunrise, "We must be almost there." He yawned and stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders. He leaned back again into the seat, sliding down farther into his heavy coat. He watched out the window through slitted eyes at the passing landscape. The trees and grasses seemed the same but he knew that the northern maple trees had been replaced with the wide, southern oaks. Soon the tall palm trees would appear with the thick, impenetrable underbrush of the saw-bladed palmettos. And the bugs, he grimaced, and poisonous snakes. Blinking, he tried to think about the Senator and why he might have requested Secret Service agents. His eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep, listening to the clicking of the wheels.

 _Later that day…_

Artemus nudged his partner's shoulder again, "Jim, you alive?" He watched, amused, as the younger agent growled at him. "We're here. You better get off this rattler before you wake up further down the line."

Jim blinked his eyes and yawned, sliding upright in his seat. He looked out of the window to see the typical train station. Workmen were quickly piling up the trunks and bags of the travelers who were just starting to disembark. Further back, on the edge of the road, more men were moving carriages and wagons closer, arguing and shaking fists as they crowded each other. "I see our bags already. I suppose we should grab them before someone else does." He stood up and waited, with Artie, for the crowd to leave their seats and file outside.

"Hope the horses are alright," Artie said, as they emerged into the bright sun. He blinked, and pulled his hat brim down over his eyes. "I'll go get them if you want to organize the bags." He moved to the right, toward the stable car as Jim moved to the left toward the growing mountain of trunks.

"Mr. West?" Jim turned to see a young man standing by the trunks. "Are you Mr. West? I am here from the Senator. I am to bring you to his home." He stepped back, looking at the bags. "Have you see yours yet, sir?"

Jim sighed, squinting into the bright sun. "Yes, that maroon one over there and the blue one over here." He stepped onto a wooden crate and reached up to snag a blue carpet bag off the jumbled pile as the young man grabbed the maroon one. They carried the bags to a large carriage as Artie walked up, leading a horse. Another man followed, leading a second horse. Jim reached out to pat the neck of a tall bay, "they look good. Let's just tie them to the carriage." The man lead both horses to the carriage and tied the lead rope to the frame.

The young man paused near the door and leaned over to whisper. "I apologize for the inconvenience, sirs, but the Senator's young daughters wanted to do some shopping in town since I was coming in. The packages are stowed up top but you will be somewhat crowded inside riding back with them. I hope you don't mind."

Jim and Artie exchanged a glance as Jim nodded to the man, "I am sure we will make the best of it." The man nodded, obviously relieved, and climbed up to sit by the driver.

Artie opened the door of the carriage and leaned over to look inside, removing his hat, and nodding gallantly. He smiled to the two young ladies sitting inside, dressed in pale lace and feathers, on one bench. The other bench, facing, sat another young woman with jet black hair and pale skin, wearing a deep evergreen dress edged with black lace. The girls all looked at him with a mix of pleasure, giddiness, and apparent loathing depending on who he looked at, "Ladies, good morning. Or afternoon, I'm not sure actually."

The two girls siting together burst into silly giggles and smiled to him, the taller girl patting the bench, "Please, sir, rest yourself. We have a long ride." Artemus nodded his thanks and climbed into the carriage, sitting next to the two girls. He looked across to see the raven-haired young lady turn away from him to stare out the window.

"Room for one more?" Jim's deep, smooth voice sent the two girls into a new burst of giggles, fans suddenly fanning in front of their eyes. He climbed into the carriage and sat next to the silent girl. "Hello," he said, his eyes taking in the girls next to Artemus. "My name is James West," he said, nodding toward his partner, "this is my associate, Artemus Gordon."

The tall girl lowered her fan to announce, "I am Elizabeth," she said, "and this is my younger sister, Lucy."

Lucy gave a light tap of her fan to her sister's forearm, "I'm not that much younger." She turned to smile at Jim, leaning forward slightly, "It's so nice to meet you. We get so few visitors."

"That's the truth," the dark haired girl said, turning to look briefly at Artemus and then turning her gaze to Jim. Her eyes paused at his face, adding, "My name is Zylphia". Her voice was smooth and deep, almost like an echo in the small space. She held Jim's gaze for a heartbeat and then turned to look again out the window.

Artemus cleared his voice and winked as his partner turned to look at him. Jim smirked and nodded to the two girls. "Do you live near town?"

"Oh, dear me, no," Elizabeth giggled. "We live in the middle of nowhere." She turned to gaze at Artie, leaning into his shoulder as the carriage dropped into a hole. As the carriage righted itself, she continued to lean, looking into his eyes. "I do hope you both stay a long time." The younger Lucy giggled in agreement as Zylphia snorted, still refusing to join the conversation.

"We'll do our best," Artemus said, smiling back at the young woman.


	3. Christmas Mystery Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Christmas Mystery

The carriage slowed on the main road and turned into a much narrower side road that wandered through an oak forest. The great trees, with huge branches spreading in all directions, completely shaded the path. Elizabeth, and her younger sister Lucy, chattered away like two colorful birds while Zylphia sat, silent and brooding, in the corner of the carriage. Jim and Artie stole a few glances in her direction but were ignored. Once, when the carriage wheel dropped into a hole, the seats lurched to one side. The group fell sideways, all the girls sliding into the two agents. As the carriage righted again, the passengers resumed their places. Elizabeth, near Artemus, gasped and squealed with delight at the momentary touch with a handsome stranger, but Jim's neighbor simply leaned onto his shoulder while averting her face. She slid back to her corner without glancing at him as he helped her regain her balance. Artie grinned at his partner, seeing Jim's sour look at the girl, knowing his friend was usually quick to make female admirers. Jim turned away from the girl and noticed his friend's smile.

"Well this has been a long drive in from town," Jim said, clearing his voice. The girls opposite him gave him the usual apt attention. "Do you go there often?"

"Very rarely," Elizabeth said. "But Zylphia and I have been away at school for the past few months. We have only lived in this house briefly after our Mother's wedding."

"I've been here forever," Lucy announced dramatically. "But next year I want to go to school in a big city too. I think this woods is dark and scary." Artemus smothered a laugh behind a hand as Jim nodded, encouraging the girl to continue. "People disappear in these woods. I don't dare ride a horse alone anywhere."

"You shouldn't go out unescorted," Jim said, looking at the girls. "I am sure whatever you need, the Senator provides it. "

"And the house," Lucy continued, "is haunted. I know there are secret tunnels underneath where people can be hidden."

"Oh, Lucy," Zylphia snapped, "stop being so dramatic. There are no ghosts and no tunnels."

"How do you know?" The young girl said back, "You only lived there a few weeks and it was in the summer. Wait until its dark, day after day, in the cold and damp."

Elizabeth looked to Artemus and then back to Jim, "the house is very large but the Senator has guests often. I am sure you will be comfortable."

"I am sure we will," Artemus agreed, amused at the girls' squabbling. The carriage slowed and turned around a circle of old flowers, petals stuck to dry stalks, to pull in front of a large staircase. He leaned out of the window to look up, seeing nothing but tall, while columns. He leaned back as a man in uniform pulled the door open and stood to one side. Artemus climbed down and waited for Jim. Then they both helped the young ladies down the carriage steps. Zylphia swept past them all and marched up the front steps as an older man walked down. She swept into the house, without addressing anyone.

The man turned to the group, "Welcome gentlemen," he said, his voice booming out at them. He swept both hands wide. "My home is your home. " He stepped down to the ground to shake hands. "I am Senator John Harris". He looked to the two girls. "I hope you entertained these two guests on the trip back without being tiresome." His comment was softened with a warm smile. The girls giggled and looked back at the agents.

"The trip was full of stimulating conversation," Elizabeth said, "except for Zyphelia," she sighed.

Jim interjected, "they described the land as we traveled. I have never been to this area. We hope to swing by New Orleans later before heading north again; possibly for the city's New Year's celebration."

"New Orleans," the Senator huffed, "is full of dangerous men and boisterous women." He paused, looking at the two young men, "but I suppose both of those are in your line of work." He winked as the agents grinned, exchanging a look. "But come inside and we will make you comfortable."

The group started to walk up the steps as Lucy announced, "I told them how the house is haunted and full of dark tunnels!"

"Now, Lucy," the man chided, "don't make them think they are in a haunted house. I have troubles enough." He stepped back to turn to Elizabeth, "please show them to their rooms. And then we will all relax in the study until supper." The group paused in a large foyer and then split apart, as the older man entered a side room and they moved to the grand, wide staircase.

The agents followed the two young ladies upstairs as liverymen carried their bags. The group paused in the hallway at the top of the staircase to allow the men to bring the bags into the rooms. As they left, Elizabeth stepped into the doorway of a large bedchamber. "These two rooms both have doors to the main hall but they also have a connecting door. Father said this might be good for you both, since you are here on business." She turned as they entered, leaning closer to Artemus. "Is this work a secret? Lucy and I know everything, if you need our help."

Artie smiled and took her hand in his. "Thank you so much, my dear. I am sure we will need to converse at length. First we need to speak with your father."

Lucy announced, as was her habit, "he isn't really our father. We should make sure you know that. He just married our mother and we said we would call him father to make him feel welcome."

"That's very kind of you," Jim said, not convinced Lucy was thrilled with the idea. "I am sure he appreciates it. Your mother must be here in the house?"

"Yes, mother sleeps all day," Lucy said, holding her hand over her forehead and pretending to faint. "She says the heat bothers her and she has to recline in her room ."

"We look forward to meeting her at dinner," Jim said, walking to a large window. He looked out, through branches of an ancient oak, toward the large fields behind the house. Lucy bounded up next to him.

"This room is smaller than the connecting room," she said, looking out the window, "but I like it better since it has the tree branches so close to the window. You can watch birds and squirrels so much better here." She turned to Jim, whispering, "and you can climb in and out of the window by climbing on the branches!"

Jim shook his head at her, "I hope you don't do that," he said, turning back to the group.

Elizabeth gathered her sister with a look, "we should let these men dress for dinner. " She smiled back to the agents. "Please come down stairs when you are ready. Dinner is not until eight o'clock so there is no hurry. Father always enjoys a glass of port before eating. The study is on the left at the bottom of the staircase." The two girls left and Artie shut the door behind them. Turning to his partner, he let out a huge sigh of relief.

"My, they are a lively bunch," he chuckled.

Jim nodded, looking again outside, "well, partner, which room would you like?"

Artie walked past him, calling over his shoulder. "I'll let you take the room with the oak tree. You will be much more likely to climb on the branches to sneak in and out of the house than I will."

Jim laughed, following Artemus into the attached room. It was slightly larger with a much wider bed. "Good choice, the larger bed will fit you better." He winked as Artie turned to glare at him. He turned, walking back into his room, saying, "I bet that larger fireplace moves and there is a secret tunnel behind it." Artie's glare turned to worry as he turned to study the fireplace mantle behind him. He shook his head in disgust and began to unpack evening clothes from his carpet bag.

 _ **Later that evening…**_

"Smoke, to settle your dinner?" The Senator handed an open wooden box to the agents. They thanked him as they each removed a cigar. The Senator held a box of matches and paused in his conversation while they busied themselves with the cigars. He waved them to deeply upholstered, dark leather chairs as he continued to pace in the small study. Jim and Artie sat, Jim on the edge of his seat while Artemus reclined, obviously enjoying the comforts of the chair and the cigar.

"Sir," Jim interrupted, impatient and burning with curiosity, "we thank you for your hospitality but I think it's time you told us why you requested agents come here. " He paused, watching the man's reactions as his words sunk in. "Everything you tell us will be in the strictness confidence, including not relating anything to your family."

The Senator let out a long sigh, "Yes, that's what worries me most. I finally have a family again and now this." He stopped pacing to drop into a chair opposite them, his boisterous manner evaporating. "This does need to stay confidential but I don't know how you will investigate it without communicating what it's about?"

Artemus lowered the cigar and said softly, "why don't you let us worry about that one for you. Just start with the problem for now."

The Senator looked from one agent to another and then, obviously reaching a decision, he rose to his feet and walked slowly to a large desk in the corner of the room. He removed a set of keys and, leaning over, unlocked a door. He pulled out a small wooden box, and walked back to hand it to the agents. Jim reached out and took it from him.

Turning the box over in his hands, Jim could see it was another cigar box. He put his cigar into a nearby ashtray and lifted the box's lid. Inside were many piles of letters and newspaper clippings. He picked up a few and handed them to Artie, who spread them out on his knees.

The Senator retook his chair and continued in a low voice, "Newspaper clippings and notes, or short letters, describing death and destruction. The clippings are of real events which occurred to others while the notes describe how these will happen to me soon." He cleared his throat, "and to my family." His eyes held deep worry as he looked at the agents. "I wouldn't ask for help if it was only myself but I only just remarried and moved my new wife, and her children, here to my home. And then this happens." He shook his head, his hand waving weakly at his side, the forgotten cigar clenched in his fingers.

Artie held up a note, reading softly, "prepare to die a horrible death soon." He dropped it to pick up another note, "you will be murdered in your bed." He poked at the other papers and Jim stirred his hand into the box. "These are rather vague, sir," he began. "Is there any specific threats? Method of death?"

The Senator pointed at the news clippings. "Some notes come with news of others deaths such as a family killed in a fire or a man thrown from his horse."

"And this started just when you married?" Artie asked quietly, gathering the papers into a pile. "Could there be someone who wanted to marry her? Or you?"

"Jealousy?" The Senator chuckled, "No one wanted to marry me, I can assure you. And I have never heard her mention anyone else. She seemed eager to marry, though not as eager to move south, so I don't believe anyone was pursuing her."

Jim shut the box and sat back in the chair. He looked at the ceiling for a minute, obviously lost in thought. He suddenly asked, "What is your work, sir, besides being a Senator? Describe your day and who you deal with."

"Various business locally and regionally," the Senator said, his voice changing, becoming business-like. "Cattle and horses, grains," he paused, "of course it used to be cotton but that is gone now." His voice dropped, lost in thought again. "My son would have taken over all of this by now if only…"

"The war?" Artemus asked quietly.

"Yes," the man nodded, looking up at them. "He would be about your age. He was killed at Gettysburg, with so many others. Such as waste. I assume you were both there?"

Artie and Jim exchanged a glance, knowing this man's son would have been with the Confederacy. "Yes, sir," Jim said, clearing his throat. "Do you think this could be connected with the war?"

The Senator fell back into his chair. "I have no idea," he said slowly. "And I don't see how you will figure this out at all. I am at a loss. Why would anyone from the war threaten me now? Because I am a Senator?" He shook his head slowly, his eyes staring blankly.

"Sir," Jim said, trying to regain control of the conversation. "Could we meet some of your business companions? Maybe ones who have met your wife?" Jim stole a look at his partner. "We need to have opportunities to converse with as many people as possible. Through quiet investigations, we should be able to determine what is happening."

The man nodded, sitting up straighter again, "yes, of course. Forgive me." He cleared his throat, "many in the area know you are both here but no one knows why. I have already arranged for a dinner party tomorrow evening so that you could meet everyone." The agents nodded in agreement and put the papers in the box. "Tomorrow you will, of course, have the freedom of the house, the grounds, the house servants, and any employees outside." He stood, "Now, would you join me in a glass of port, gentlemen? And I will tell you stories of the history of this house. I am sure you are curious about secret tunnels and ghosts." He walked to a side table and busied himself with glasses.

Artie leaned closer to Jim, reaching for the box. Jim handed it over to him as Artemus whispered, "just what I love. Ghost stories about a haunted mansion just before I go to sleep in said haunted mansion." Jim grinned at him as he rose to join to the Senator.


	4. Christmas Mystery Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jim tied the black silk handkerchief around his neck and picked up his hat and black, leather gloves. He snapped up his right arm and the derringer slipped into his palm. He carefully pushed the mechanism back in place.

"Think she'll give you that much trouble, James?" Artemus was standing in the doorway between their rooms, buttoning up his shirt.

Jim grinned at him, "You can never be too careful, partner," he said, smiling. "Do you think you can start any useful conversations with staff near the house or inside, even?"

"Oh, sure, sure," Artie said as he tucked his shirt tails into his pants. "What servant doesn't want to vent about his boss? The cook will know the delivery men and therefore know all the dirt in the neighboring homes. And the young servants live off the property so they will know everyone too. And I am sure I can walk through the gardens with Elizabeth and hear the story of the wedding and the guests." He paused, straightening his collar in the mirror. Sighing, he added, "I just wish I could get the woman of the house to speak to me. She is an odd one. Married and moved here but spends her day in her room, barely eats, doesn't speak at dinner time. Even her children don't seem to go near her."

"The heat makes her sick so she can't eat and then she has no energy to move," Jim said, thinking. "Or she is being poisoned slowly by an evil husband. If he is even her husband at all? Maybe he kidnapped her and these young ladies are only acting as if they are her children?" He wiggled his eyebrows at Artie's glare. "You never know!"

"That's laying it on a little thick, don't you think, James?" Artie tisked tisked his way back to his room. "Don't get attacked by Zylphia out in the woods today. I don't want to have to go searching for you again."

"Oh, like that happens all the time," Jim said, sarcastically. "We'll return before dark." He moved out of the rooms and into the hall. Walking quickly down the stairs, he moved to the front parlor where he knew the women gathered during the day. The sisters were all there, obviously in a deep conversation as he stepped through the open doorway. The girls turned as a group but Zylphia jumped toward him, hurrying past.

"I'm ready, let's go," she called out over her shoulder as she almost ran for the front door. Jim nodded a quick hello to Elizabeth and Lucy and then turned to hurry after the dark-haired beauty.

Outside, the bright afternoon sun was beating down. A liveryman was standing on the ground at the foot of the front, formal steps holding the rains of a palomino and of Jim's tall bay stallion. "I put extra canteens of water on the saddle horns," the man said, stepping to the side of the horse so Zylphia could mount. "It's going to be a hot one today but should be pleasant for the dinner party tonight."

"Thank you," Jim said, shaking the man's hand and slipping him a tip. The man beamed with pleasure, as he held the bay still so Jim could mount. Jim chuckled to himself, knowing he could mount the horse at full gallop while being shot at but the servant seemed to like the horses and was always trying to help. "We will be back before dark. I just want to look around at the grounds and the barns. Then maybe go through some fields further out."

"The young lady can guide you," the man said, "All the roads are laid out in circular fashion so you will always loop back in view of the house or carriage barns. You can't get lost as long as you stay on the trails."

With a nod, Jim turned his horse and moved between the buildings. The carriage barn was formal and ornate, with a cupola topped with a brass weathervane of a running horse. "They seem to do everything here," Jim said, his eyes noticing the various crafts men and women were doing from weaving baskets and making barrels to churning butter and smoking meats. He felt like he was riding through narrow streets of a small village. Zylphia looked around at the busy workers but stayed silent.

"What's that?" Jim asked, urging his horse further ahead. His eyes had caught movement behind tall wooden fences near more ordinary looking barns. As he approached, he could hear the loud whinnying of many horses and just see the tops of heads with flying manes.

"They always keep horses back here," Zylphia said, "The smell is bad and the flies…" she made a waving motion at a fly as it passed her by.

Jim nudged his horse close to the fence and looked into a large arena full of horses. They were all tall and sleek with various colors of white to black, solids and paints. His eyes caught a black horse running around the edge of the fences. As it approached, his bay whinnied, wanting to run with the group. Jim patted the animal's neck to quiet it. The black suddenly charged a group of men who were inside the fence. They scrambled up the cross beams as the wild horse reared up and slammed its front hooves into the wood with a crash. The slowest man was still leaping over the top and he tumbled to the ground. Jim grinned, watching the horse, amazed at its attitude. The black backed up and then continued its charge around the ring, passing Jim in a blaze of speed and dust. He watched, transfixed, as the horse burst through the group of calmer animals and raced to the far end to kick at another section of fencing.

"It's like he's testing it for a weak spot," Jim said, nodding the man who had so nearly been kicked. The man stood up and leaned on the wooden wall, peeking through the rails.

"That thing is dangerous," he said, "no way to ever break him. He's been in there for weeks and no one can get near him. We have caught and broken dozens of horses but he's still trying to kill us. The boss should just let it go free so it can make more colts." He looked up at Jim, "Some you just can't tame." His eyes strayed past Jim to look at Zylphia, who was still waving at a fly and oblivious to what was happening nearby. "Some people too," he said quietly.

Jim turned to see what the man was looking at and paused to admire the dark haired young lady. She suddenly seemed to be a similar creature to the dark horse. He turned back to the man standing by the fence and noticed how he was looking at her. The wishful look had been replaced by anger and frustration. Jim looked past him at the group of wranglers and could see most of the men watching the girl with various looks of lust and anger. Jim cleared his throat to regain the conversation, "does he sell these horses?"

"Oh, yes, sir," the man said, leaning onto the wall now. Without looking at Jim, he added, "and the boss gets a pretty penny for them while we break our backs. Ya, a pretty penny, that's for sure." His eyes moved up and down the girl. "And he won't sell them to the likes of me," his voice taking a hard edge. He looked up at Jim, "I don't know who you are, mister, but don't think you can get your way with the Senator about anything he owns. Not a thing." He took one last look at the girl and turned, marching away to join his friends.

Jim watched the black horse for a while longer but it seemed to have stopped its movement and was standing in the shade now with the other horses. With a long sigh, he turned and moved farther down the path with Zylphia.

The afternoon was long and lazy, as they made their way around the fields. They stopped often to rest and drink water, letting the horses relax and graze. At a furthest point in what seemed like an enormous and distant circling trail, Zylphia stopped by an opening between the trees. She slid from her horse and stepped onto a narrow, grassy path. Jim followed her into the deep shade of the woods, leaving their horses to graze in the field.

The path lead to a small stream where the water cooled the air. Rays of sunshine were all around them and dust particles sparkled in the light beams. Jim pulled off his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead as the girl gathered her skirts and sank onto the soft ground.

"I came here a few times when we first moved down here," she said, her eyes transfixed on the water. "It was the end of August and the hottest time of the year. This is the only cool spot. I have not shown anyone," her dark eyes turned to Jim as he sat on an old stump next to her. "Until now, that is."

Jim said softly, "was it difficult to move here? You must have left friends and family in New York City?"

The girl smiled grimly, "I have friends that I still see since I go to school there. But family?" she turned to look back at the water, "didn't they tell you that I was adopted?"

"No, I had not heard that." He studied her, the lazy, almost careless attitude but he suspected it was covering a burning anger. "But many people are adopted. Don't they treat you well?"

"Yes," the girl sighed, "I shouldn't complain but I never really felt like a part of the family and now we are down here. But it's only for a few weeks and then I go back to my real life." She turned to look at him, her eyes traveling from his face down his body, pausing and then moving up again to his eyes. "Do you ever come to New York City? We could go out dancing, see a show?"

"I thought you were in school?" He asked, not sure how he felt about her observations of him.

"Oh, I go sometimes," she said, smiling. "And sometimes not. Sometimes I stay with friends in the city. My mother has no interest in what I do. She just sends me away. I even work for a little spending money."

Jim leaned closer, amused now, "where do you work?"

The girl rolled onto her knees, leaning her hands on his thigh, as she looked up at him, inches from his face now, "at a dress shop, in the lingerie department. Do you ever go to dress shops?" Jim just smiled and shook his head no. She breathed in and whispered, "My mother still thinks I'm a virgin too."

Jim stared at her, not sure what to do or say. After a heart-beat, the girl leaned away and reclined back onto the ground, a sprawl of skirts in the grass. She wrapped her arms above her head, allowing him full view of her figure underneath the tightly fitted dress, and looked up at him. "It's very private here, we wouldn't be interrupted."

Jim sat, frozen, his head swirling with thoughts of how they could enjoy the afternoon. But other thoughts swirled too, of how old was this girl, what if her father, the Senator, found out? How it could affect his job at the agency? He felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck as his eyes moved over her body. The girl raised her arms out to him and he felt himself being drawn toward her.


	5. Christmas Mystery Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sipping his tea, Artemus nodded encouragement to the old woman, "and…"

"Well," she whispered, leaning closer, "and that's when the misses arrived." She sat back, nodding her head knowingly. "Always was a quiet house until then. Not that it's her fault, specifically. Oh, she's a quiet one. But I know…"

Artie counted to ten silently and tried again, "is it the children?"

"Well," she continued, "the two oldest are gone to school, so I'm told." She paused to look behind her at the closed kitchen door, "it's the youngest that's the troublemaker, if you ask me. Always being dramatic, announcing things that she saw a ghost or found a secret tunnel." She sighed, "but she will be off to school herself soon so the house will be quiet again."

"Mrs. Harris seems to stay in her room most of the time," Artie pressed.

"Oh, yes, of course it's more than a bedroom," the old woman nodded, "it's a sitting room with a balcony too. She can stay up there all day for all I care. Less work for me."

"Interesting," Artie said, trying to think of other topics. "You ever see one of these ghosts?" He winked at her, to show he was joking, "or a tunnel?"

"Heavens no," she said, blushing. "I've been living here for years. Ain't no tunnels or ghosts." She paused and looked behind her again. "We do have some bad men working here though, rough men, if you know what I mean."

Artie leaned closer, "they work outside, of course. Doing what though?"

"Work with the horses," she said, "the field hands know their places and the craftsmen are too busy to care what else goes on at the house. They are all good workers. But," she sighed, "when he decided to round up wild horses and sell them to the army for use at the barracks nearby, he hired ruffians to break them. I don't like them near the house. Sometimes they are hanging around, just watching." The old woman shivered, shaking her head.

"I suppose Mr. Harris is very popular with his neighbors," Artie said, changing the subject. "He has had this plantation for years and is now a Senator. That must be an asset for his friends nearby."

The old woman shook her head again, "Senator," she huffed, "so I suppose he does all this important work in Washington, wherever that is, and leaves us to run this house. He has a good foreman to watch over the workmen but this house is a lot to keep up. And ever since he expanded his fields, he has caused hard feelings with his neighbors. "

"Why would the neighbors care about his fields," Artie asked, wondering if he should be writing a list of possible threats. This was worse than he expected.

"He bought river land, that's why," the old woman announced, "land that others wanted. An old family died off, the will left the land distant relatives who lived up north. Well suddenly he said he owned the land. Cleared the woods and started to grow rice, of all things. Of course I was relieved that northerners were not moving in to the area, but, just the same…hard feelings."

"Because some other neighbors wanted that land?" Artie said, he nodded, thinking about the dinner party that would commence in just a few hours. "Will any of these people be here tonight?"

"Oh, I wouldn't think so tonight," the cook said. "I was told to prepare for a dozen or so guests. But they will all be here next week for the big Christmas party. Everyone from the surrounding area will be here. And what a lot of work that will be. Cooking for a hundred extra mouths. We have to have extra cooks and extra servers. Clean the silver and … "

Artie nodded, "of course, such a responsibility for you to plan the food and extra people to organize. But you do this every year?"

"Yes," she said, "but the new misses gave me a list of food to cook and I don't even know what the food is!" She leaned over to snatch a piece of paper off the counter and hand it to Artemus. "See if you have ever heard of this Yankee food. I declare my mother would turn in her grave!"

Artemus looked over the menu, amused at the old woman's hysteria, but then his heart leaped into his throat. The held the paper closer, tilting it from side to side in the afternoon sunlight. Could it be this simple, he thought?

In the woods...

Jim held the young woman against him, his lips sliding slowly down the side of her neck as his arms encircled her narrow waist. He felt fingers in his hair and another slender hand slide up his spine underneath his jacket. She twisted in his arms, turning to face him, her lips pressing against his. He felt his body flush with heat as her kiss deepened, her tongue sliding along his. He moaned, crushing her against him as they knelt together in the grass.

"I want you," she whispered, breaking the kiss to tilt her head back. His lips went to her throat, his breath coming in gasps now. She started to lean backwards, moving to the ground, and he leaned with her, his mouth moving over her breasts to the edge of the neckline of her dress as her body arched toward him. Her hands moved to the buttons of his vest as her legs wrapped around his waist, pinning him tightly against her.

Jim leaned closer, to kiss her, but paused, his brain fighting the rest of his body. He pulled back, looking down at her. He shook his head to clear it. "Wait," he gasped, releasing his grasp.

"Wait for what?" She snapped, irritated. "Don't you like me?" She started to sit up, grabbing at his clothes.

Jim grinned, nodding, "yes, of course but," he said, grabbing her hands. "I just don't think this is a good idea", not wanting to admit his thoughts to her. How old was she, he worried. And what if they were discovered? The girl glared at him and he tried to calm her, "look, I am here to do a job. It's nothing personal, but I am supposed to be helping your step-father."

"He doesn't give a damn about me," Zylphia snarled. "He won't come looking for us!"

As if on cue, a man's voice hollered out from the field up the path, "Mister West? Zylphia? Are you down there?"

Jim quickly sat back, startled by the voices. Suddenly angry with himself that he allowed the girl to distract him to the point of not hearing approaching men on horseback, he jumped to his feet. Looking back toward the field he could just make out figures on horseback moving in the distant sunlight. "Company," he said, leaning down to take her wrist. He quickly helped her up and without a word, they walked back to the field. The Senator was on a horse, riding in a group of men. "Sir," Jim said, hoping it didn't look too comprising but the older man didn't seem to even notice his step-daughter.

"Luckily, we found you," he said, "We need to speak. It's urgent."

Jim nodded and he, and the girl, quickly mounted. The group returned to the house.

In the study...

"So you received a letter this afternoon?" Artemus said, holding his hand out for the envelope and notepaper. The script caught his eye, as he studied the hesitating and broken lines of the letters. The usual words were misspelled again too. "This has to be the same person writing this…"

"Well I should hope so," The Senator snapped. "I would hate to think that there are a group of people writing me threatening letters!" He stomped over to pour himself a drink of whiskey, not bothering to offer a drink to the agents this time.

Jim leaned over to look at the letter and then took the envelope from Artie. He looked at the outside, turning it over in the sunlight. "How do these arrive? There isn't a stamp so it must have been hand delivered?"

"No one knows," the man wailed, "no one sees. The envelopes are just found outside in the box on the porch. It's as if an invisible person walks up and drops it in." He gulped down another glass of amber fluid.

Jim took a deep breath and paced to the windows where he could see the front walkway to the porch. The dooryard was busy with the servants and workmen, as usual. "If some stranger walked onto the porch, he or she would be noticed and challenged. I strongly suspect that this is being down by someone who belongs here in some capacity; a worker, a friend, a relative."

"I don't care if it's the damnable tax collector," the Senator snapped, slamming the decanter back onto the table. "I want you to catch this person in the act. Do you hear me?"

"Well one thing is for sure," Artemus said, retaking the envelope from Jim and stuffing the letter back inside, "this person does not feel threatened by our presence. Jim was outside, riding, but could have returned at any minute. And I was in and out of the house numerous times this afternoon. I could have caught the person in the act too. Maybe I even walked past them without knowing what they were doing, especially if the person belongs here anyway."

"We will get more information tonight," Jim said, trying to reassure the Senator. "We will speak to your guests, ask about their businesses." Jim stared at the older man, "It will be essential for you to give us free reign without interrupting conversations. I need people to speak freely without worrying about you overhearing the subjects being discussed." The man nodded, desperate now.

"The guests will be here at eight o'clock," he said. "I will do as you ask."

Upstairs...

Artie watched his partner remove his coat in their rooms, obviously lost in thought. Bits of grass and leaves fell onto the carpet. "Have a good ride with the dark princess?"

"What," Jim asked, as if just waking up. "Yes, yes…" he sat down to pull off a boot and toss it onto the floor. "We rode around the carriage barns and workshops. I spoke to a variety of people, some friendly and some not so friendly."

"And how was Zylphia?" Artie asked, curious, as he noticed more grass stuck in his friend's hair. "Friendly? Or not so friendly?"

Jim looked up to see the amused look on his partner's face. "What's so funny?" He snapped.

Artie burst out in laughter, "you are. You have grass and leaves all over you. I guess you two weren't rolling in the hay but you were definitely rolling somewhere."

"We weren't rolling anywhere," Jim said, as he pulled off his other boot. He threw it good-naturedly at Artie and it bounced against the far wall. "Though she was willing, I will admit to that. She told me all sort of stories. I don't think I believe half of them."

"Well I am glad you could break through the icy layer and get her to warm up." Artie laughed. "It must have taken all your skills of sweet talking."

"It took all my willpower not to do more than talk," Jim said. He leaned back and ran his hands through his hair, grimacing as he felt the grass stuck to his scalp. "She said she was adopted. Did anyone mention that? And that she works at a dress shop in New Your City somewhere."

"There are lots of dress shops," Artie said. "I will try to talk to her about the city, see who she knows. But no, I haven't heard anyone mention she was adopted. I spoke to the head cook for a while; learned the dirt about the neighbors. Seems he has angered some other plantation owners by snatching up a nice piece of property that others wanted."

"Could be that," Jim sighed. "Could be anyone."

Artie thought for a minute, "the cook mentioned some wranglers working with horses that seemed dangerous, or at least unfriendly. She said they hang around the house and watch people."

Jim nodded, "I met some of them. Very angry and jealous but hardly the letter writing type. And I don't think they read newspapers. But I could be wrong."

Artie said quietly, "Yes, newspapers all cut up, letters that are related to different articles about death. That would take a lot of reading to find the most appropriate article and then creativity to craft the threats to match. And some of those articles are older so that would mean either saving old newspapers or having access to newspapers that someone else saved." He paused, noting Jim watching him. "But it's the penmanship that interests me the most, Jim."

"The penmanship, Artie?" Jim's eyebrows twisted together as he stared at his partner, "you're serious? Penmanship?"

"Yes, I think that's the key," Artie nodded. "Well and the spelling and grammar but I am grouping all of that together. The entire writing style, I suppose is what I mean. You can tell a lot from someone's writing style."

"Sure, Artie," Jim said, standing up. "Why don't you spend time at the party noticing each person's writing style while I start some heated conversations about real-estate. This should be so entertaining," he said in a very bored voice. "I hope the next case is a little more stimulating." He walked to the dry sink and dumped a pitcher of water in the bowl. He pulled his shirt off over his head, not bothering with the buttons, and tossed it on the bed. Then he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off, kicking them into a heap on the floor. Standing in his underwear, he dipped the washcloth in the water and rubbed a bar of soap on it.

Turning to see Artie still standing in his room, obviously lost in thought, he said, "Hey, I did see something else that was interesting today."

"What's that," Artie asked, blinking out of his stupor.

"I saw the craziest horse!" He chuckled, remembering, as he rubbed the soapy cloth over his bare chest. Tiny bubbles became trapped in his chest hair as he soaped his arms. "Almost an iridescent, it was so black. It was in the corral with a bunch of other horses they just rounded up. One of those wranglers said they had caught it weeks ago but they haven't been able to break it. In fact it is so dangerous they want to let it go. It chased a group of men right out of the choral. I thought it was going to break the fence down."

"Sounds like they should release it," Artie said, sighing. "Well I better get cleaned up too. Maybe I can have a quiet chat his Mrs. Harris tonight." He moved into his room, still appearing to be lost in thought.

Later that night…

"Well, any luck," Jim asked his partner as they leaned on the porch railing. The stars were brilliant in the black sky but the moon was just rising and would soon dim their brightness. A cool breeze had begun to blow away the day's heat. He pulled at the white collar of his formal white shirt, under his dress jacket. The formal evening attire had been stifling hot during dinner but the breeze outside was a welcome change.

Artie shook his head, "I can't very well ask people to write on note cards for me at a dinner party; it's not like they are using dance cards. Even the invitations were verbal." He sighed, looking back over his shoulder. "And I still didn't see the woman of the house. She had dinner at the table but I never saw her come to the drawing room afterwards."

"Maybe she gets indigestion after she eats or was over-heated," Jim muttered. "Hopefully she will be down later. I certainly won't be deep in conversation with anyone in this group. These people seem very suspicious of us."

"I don't blame them," Artie said, "I would be too. Us northerns sneaking back south across the border. They probably think General Grant sent us to find their munitions." Jim chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Well I will go find the girls. Elizabeth and Lucy are my main sources of information, besides the servants."

"I think I am going to go for a walk around the other buildings," Jim muttered. "Maybe the servants in the livery will feel like talking." He smacked Artie on the shoulder and jumped over the porch railing, landing on the ground with a thud. He walked down a path lit by lanterns toward the main carriage barn. As he wound between trees he heard a woman's voice behind him, call his name. Turning, he saw Zylphia hurry toward him. "What are you doing out here alone?"

"I go where I want," the girl said, stepping close to his chest. She rested her hands on his vest and then slid them slowly to his sides, holding him. "And I do what I want."

Jim pulled her wrists together, "look, you are a very pretty young lady and, in different circumstances, I would welcome the attention. But I am here to help your step-father."

"So let's meet in another circumstance," she whispered. She leaned closer, gently touching her lips on his, breathing, "we could meet in town, in the hotel. I'd do whatever you want me to do."

Jim felt a line of sweat run down his back. He leaned closer, deepening the kiss. His grip loosened and her hands slid around him again. He felt his body bending with her's, as his arms wrapped around her shoulders.

"Zyphia!" An angry voice yelled from nearby. The girl jumped back from Jim to glare up at the wrangler who was on a horse at the end of the path. The lantern's light cast a twisted shadow over his angry face. "You slut! I told you not to go near anyone!" He held a whip out toward the girl, his hand shaking with rage.

"McKenzie," the girl yelled back, angry but clearly frightened. "You were told to stop coming near me and the house!" She turned, and with a panicked look on her face, ran back down the path to the back porch.

Jim stood, watching her run, making sure she made it safely. Then he turned to the cowboy, "I want to talk to you!" He started forward but the horse backed up, sensing his anger.

The wrangler shook his whip at Jim, while trying to control his mount. "Yankee, the only talk will be me laughing over your dead body!" He turned the horse and kicked it. The animal leaped forward and dashed into the darkness. Jim ran out of the path to get a clear view of the driveway. He could just make out the horse and rider speeding down the lane and turning right onto the main road, quickly disappearing into the darkness beyond the lanterns' firelight.

Jim turned and hurried to the carriage barn. Spotting the man that had helped him earlier, he motioned for him to follow him to the barn. The man ran in as Jim grabbed his saddle. "Who's the young wrangler named McKenzie?" Jim snapped the question out as he dropped the saddle onto the blanket which was already on his bay.

The man grabbed the bridle and put it in the horse's mouth as Jim pulled the leather straps tight. "That's a mean one," he said, holding the horse steady. "He keeps after Zylphia whenever she's here. He and his friends keep hanging around the house so they can talk to her. Mr. Harris tells them to go away but they don't stop. He mostly keeps trying to talk, but one time he grabbed her. They are scary."

"I only saw the one," Jim said, climbing onto the horse, his dress shoes feeling awkward in the stirrups.

"There's always at least two," the livery man said, stepping back. "If you are going after them, be careful. They are dangerous, I swear."

Jim nodded his thanks and kicked his heals into the horse's side. The animal moved quickly out of the barn and down the lane to the driveway. Once clear of the people and other horses, Jim kicked it into a gallop and they flew down the road in pursuit of McKenzie.

Once clear of the house, Jim was plunged into darkness. He slowed his mount to a canter, trying to let his eyes adjust to the darkness after being near the lantern light. He could see the edge of the road and the driveways leading to the other homes as he passed. He kept count of the driveways on his right side so he would be able to retrace his path back to the Harris plantation. After close to an hour, Jim stopped the horse to think. Now that his anger had faded away, he admitted that it was a fool's errand. The young girl was probably the prettiest in the county. It wouldn't be unusual for all the young men nearby to be attracted to her. And with her forwardness, he chuckled, one had probably thought she wanted to get married and was upset that she had rebuffed him.

He reached for his canteen and realized he hadn't grabbed it in his hurried flight from the barn. His other hand reached instinctively for the rifle, in the darkness, and was reassured it was in the scabbard attached to the saddle leather. He sighed, knowing he had wasted another evening. "Well, partner," he muttered to himself, "I hope you are making out better than I am."

He gripped the reins and began to turn the bay, patting the animal's neck, as the shot rang out in the night, echoing down the wooded lane. At the same instant, the horse reared, screaming in panic.

"Whoa, fella," Jim said, as the horse dropped back to the ground. He leaned forward, to pat the animal's neck and felt warm, wetness on his hand. He kicked the horse forward, reaching for the rifle, but the horse backed up instead, closer to the edge of the road, limping and obviously unsteady on its feet. The horse suddenly reared again, but this time the back feet twisted. The animal screamed again and toppled over backwards, off the road. Jim had clamped his legs onto the horse to stay in the saddle but, when the horse began to fall, he tried to jump clear. He slipped the toes of his shoes out of the stirrups as the horse toppled over a steep bank. Jim felt himself falling in the darkness as the horse fell on top of him.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jim felt himself falling down over the steep bank into the pitch blackness below. His back and shoulders hit first, but not the ground which he was bracing for. Wooden posts of a fence line slammed into him as he fell. The posts tipped over as he slid, dropping his body onto the rocky outcropping. He tumbled down the hill, knocking over more fence posts and rolling over rocks. The bay screamed in fright as it toppled with him in a tumble of man, beast, and leather. Jim's head hit a rock, stunning him, as he finally came to a halt.

He laid still, on his right side, staring into utter darkness. His breathing came in sharp, pain filled gasps as his ears rang. He could hear the horse whinnying nearby. His tried to move his arms but his clothes were snagged and caught on something. He shifted his legs but his feet were above him, twisted awkwardly, on the rocks. He struggled to move but suddenly froze as a man's voice drifted down to him.

"Can you see him?" a man's voice said.

"No, but I can hear the horse," a second, deeper voice answered. "He must have fallen to the bottom of that hollow. Good place for him."

"Should we go down and shoot the horse? I hate to leave an animal to suffer." The first voice said.

"I ain't climbing down there," the deep voice said. "If the fall didn't kill us, the copperheads would."

Jim waited, listening, as the footsteps on gravel faded away. Frustrated and angry at himself, he tried to sit up but was again held fast by unseen snares.

"What the hell?" He muttered, trying to look at his clothing. He turned his left arm in the darkness and could see something silver hooked tight across his sleeve. He yanked hard and felt sharp, stabbing pains in the back of this hand. Gasping, he twisted again, feeling more sharp pains in his shoulder.

"For the love of..." he yanked harder on his arm and shoulder, wrenching at the snare and something released from his jacket's shoulder only to drag across his neck and lodge under his jawbone. His breath caught in his throat and he tried to pull away but his head hit the rocks below him.

Lying still again, he tried to determine what it could be that held him. His mind drifted back to the craftsman and blacksmiths working behind the Senator's house. Two men had been making long strips of wire with sharp metal barbs. The men had told him it was a modern wire system to keep the cattle restricted in an area instead of roaming free. He winced as he remembered the men's' cut hands as they had struggled to work with it.

Taking a deep breath, Jim shifted his hips to loosen his right hand but his arm seemed trapped below him. He started again with his left hand, slowly twisting his wrist, but the barbs only seemed to sink in deeper. He shifted his shoulder to maneuver his arm, without daring to move his head, but his jacket seemed to snag on another barb. He wondered how many strands had been strung between the fence posts.

"Artie," he muttered into the night, "I think I need some help." He remembered his partner nagging him recently about leaving without letting him know; specifically mentioning disappearing into the night. "I wish you were here to say I told you so." He pulled again on his shoulder and felt the wire tear through the thin, black dress jacket to impale the skin on his shoulder blade. "Shit," he muttered.

 _Hours later, in the garden…._

Artemus wrapped his arm around the slender waist of the young woman as they paused under the rose covered archway leading into the garden behind the house. Elizabeth turned and looked up into his eyes. Her face was framed with loose tendrils of blond hair while most of her hair was twisted and piled onto her head in a controlled tumble of pins and lace. Her pale yellow dress almost sparkled in the starlight, like the pale roses still blooming in the fall garden beds nearby.

"And I thought you were going to be a silver haired old man," the girl said, her eyes straying from his eyes to the lock of dark hair hung over his forehead, and back again. "I only wish I was a criminal so that I … "

"A criminal?" Artemus said, smiling, enjoying the banter she had given him throughout the day. Elizabeth had been an enjoyable companion when she wasn't busy with her mother or taking care of Lucy. It had been a day of chance encounters and a promised meeting for the evening, filled with the girl's curiosity of his work and his guarded questions regarding the investigation. "There are more enjoyable things to do than be thrown into a filthy jail."

"You have a suggestion?" The girl tilted her head to one side, looking up at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Maybe you could take me for a walk through the garden toward the far end? I think the mistletoe is still hanging in the gazebo."

"Now who hung mistletoe outside in a gazebo?" Artemus teased.

With a smile, she took his hand and gently led him down the garden paths, lit by flickering lantern light and the star filled sky. The maze of paths were outlined with dozens of lanterns leading to the gazebo in the far distance. The garden was deserted, since most guests were now getting into carriages for their return home.

"You know," Elizabeth giggled, as they walked, "no one believed you tonight about why you are here, you and your friend James." She gave Artemus a wink. "Not that we know why specifically, but it must have something to do with father being a Senator now. There must be someone evil after him!"

"I'm hurt," Artie said, smiling at the girl. "No one believed me? Not even one?" He shook his head, feigning anxiety. "I was trying to not cause suspicion with the neighbors. It really is a routine inspection of future security needs of a new Senator."

The girl paused at the door of the gazebo. She stepped up onto the landing and turned to face the agent, now at eye level, her fingers slowly playing with the buttons on the front of his dinner jacket. "Secret Service agents are sent by the President to investigate crimes involving the Treasury Department or direct threats of violence toward elected officials," she said, trying to sound official. The she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight against his chest. "So my step father is either involved in making counterfeit money or is being pursued by murderers." Her smile and deep blue eyes softened her comments. "Now what can I do to get you to tell me the juicy details?"

"Standing under the mistletoe is a good start," Artie whispered, looking up at the greenery attached to the gazebo's doorway with red ribbons. "But we can do more pleasant activities in a garden, under the light of the stars, with a beautiful young lady." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips, not sure if his advances would be welcome or not. He knew he must be years older than the young men she was usually with in college. To his delight, he felt her deepen the kiss, her fingers sliding across his shoulders and into his hair, pulling him closer.

"Elizabeth!" The Senator's voice rang out from the darkness. "Are you in the garden? Elizabeth, come at once, child." The man was standing on the side porch, looking into the garden, his body making odd shadows as he swayed in front of the lanterns attached to the house.

Artemus pulled away from the girl, aware that their own shadows would be obvious. Elizabeth turned to look back at the house with a sigh, "he's a dear but he is a bit over protective. I'm afraid he doesn't know what to do with me and Zylphia."

"I imagine Zylphia is a challenge," Artemus said, taking the girl's hand again as she stepped off the doorstep of the gazebo. "But I don't believe it with you." They walked slowly back to the house.

"Oh?" Elizabeth laughed. "Zylphia is more lazy than crazy, more a home body than outgoing," she said. "You'd be surprised. Even tonight, she has spent most of the evening in her room. She went outside for a few minutes with your friend, James, but then she came running back inside all upset. She is so dramatic that she…"

Artie froze, mid-step, turning to Elizabeth, "what? I thought he was with her, somewhere, this evening. I haven't seen him in hours. It must be past midnight by now." His grip had tightened on the girl's hand and she twisted to pull her fingers away. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, reaching to stroke her hands gently with his again. "I am just surprised. Did she say what happened?"

"She said one of the wranglers was yelling at her," she whispered. "There is one boy here, Roger Lane, is his name. Anyway, he gets so controlling when we are here. He tells her what to do and where to go, it's like they are married. But I think he's scary."

"Have you told the Senator about this?" Artemus asked. "He would have this Lane put off the property if he knew."

"Oh, no," Elizabeth whispered. "He is the son of a neighbor and he works all the horses in the area. Breaks them to saddle, you know? We hear he is the best at what he does so we don't want to cause trouble. We are here so infrequently so we just try to stay away from him."

"And he was bothering her tonight?" Artie pressed. "Did Zylphia mention what Jim did?"

"Oh, I know what he did," the girl said, stepping around the porch to point at the front dooryard. "Lane was on his horse, yelling at both of them. Then Zylphia ran into the house. James yelled something at Lane but the creep just rode off. Then I saw Jim ride off on his horse a few minutes later and follow him down the road. But that was hours ago," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "He must be back by now."

Artie nodded but there was a burning in the pit of his stomach as they reached the house. "Why don't you say good night to your father for m? I will just a walk around the barns, see if Jim's horse is back." He kissed the girl's check and watched her walk up the steps and enter the house. The yard was empty now, the last of the carriages had left. A few workmen were milling around, slowly putting out the lanterns while they talked. Artie moved to the stable where the guest's horses were kept.

Artie entered the stable, the stalls light by laterns inside. He walked to his horse and stopped, the burning in his stomach rising to choke his throat. Jim's horse was not in the next stall. A man stepped up to Artemus, "your friend is still out." The man shook his head, eyebrows knit together. "And I tell you, I am worried. He shouldn't have gone off like that. I warned him though."

"What?" Artie said, only half listening, as he tried to decide what to do. "Do you know where he went?" He glanced at the man as he pulled out his pocket watch to check the time.

"Well, yes and no," the man drawled. "I know what direction he went. And that he went out after young Lane, that no good…"

"Close enough," Artie said, snapping his watch shut. "Help me get my horse ready." He grabbed the blanket and draped it over the horse and then reached for the saddle. The man busied himself with the bridle. "How long ago was this?"

"Hours," the man muttered. "It happened as the guests were moving outside, after eating. I didn't notice Lane until he was yelling at Miss Zylphia. She ran into the house and your friend yelled out at Lane that he wanted to talk to him." The man chuckled, "his face didn't look like he wanted to talk. Ole Lane turned his horse and took off down the road. And your friend ran in here. I helped him with his horse, same as I am doing with you."

Artie swung up into the saddle, his feet clumsy with the low heeled dress shoes. "What direction?" Artie paused, leaning over.

"To the left," the man said, reaching up to hook a canteen strap over the saddle horn. "Good luck. Hope everything is ok, maybe it's just a horse with a thrown shoe."

"Ya," Artie muttered, "me too." But he knew it wasn't. He had realized soon after starting his work as an agent that his young partner was a magnet for trouble and that being injured was part of the job. Luckily, so far, Jim had proven to be a fast healer. He sped out of the barn and down the road into the darkness.

The road was wider than the driveways and side roads and the stars were brilliant, lighting his path with enough light see a few yards ahead but that was all. Artie soon found himself surrounded the by thick woods or open swamps which he had seen riding in the carriage the day they arrived. He had slowed his horse but was still moving at a steady clip, wondering how he was going to find his friend. Every tree and rock could be hiding a body, he mused. How long had Jim been gone, he wondered, and how far could he had traveled. The bay was a fast, strong horse and could cover a long distance in a short amount of time.

He finally stopped his horse and dismounted, stretching his legs. He pulled his watch out and tilted the face toward the sky, trying to read the wide face. The party had ended at midnight, and he had left soon after, but saw that it was nearing two o'clock now. Suddenly Artemus heard the whinny of a distant horse and his own horse whinnied, as if in answer.

"What?" he said, rubbing the neck of his mount? "Where did that come from?" His horse shook its head and pawed at the ground. "Well, let me know if you can figure it out," Artie muttered. He turned and walked to the edge of the road, squinting into the darkness. The bank fell away and he could see the tops of the trees below. He took a few steps and tripped over a piece of wood. He kicked it but it didn't move. He stared down, realizing it was a partially broken fence post. He stepped to the edge of the bank and looked down through an opening in the trees. He could make out a line of broken fence posts and, in the distance below, the dark outline of a horse lying on its side.

"Oh, no," he gasped, his throat closing. He stepped over the edge and began sliding down the stone covered bank. Rocks overturned and rolled downhill ahead of him as his dress shoes slid, almost twisting off. He grabbed at tree branches to slow his descent to a somewhat controlled fall. Finally reaching the bottom, he rushed to the horse.

"Hey, boy," he said, kneeling to examine the animal. It raised its head weakly and whinnied again. "What happened to you," Artie breathed, moving his right hand over the animal's side. His fingers felt crusted blood and he knew it must have been shot. He stood and pulled on the reins but the horse didn't even try to get up. "Damn," he sighed, knowing it must have been lying here for hours. He pulled out his pocket pistol from inside his jacket and aimed at the horses head, "Sorry, old boy," he whispered, he voice choking. Hating himself, he pulled the trigger.

The shot rang down the valley and he heard a gasp behind him. Spinning on the lose stones, he stepped forward slowly. "Jim?" He squinted into the darkness, listening. "Jim, are you there?" Thinking he was going mad with fright, he stopped and closed his eyes to listen. He heard what sounded like breathing and then a weak voice called out.

"Artie," the voice drifted down from above him.

Artie climbed up the hill a few yards and saw a figure, in black clothing, lying in the shadows. Jim was on his right side, head pointed downhill, on the rocks. Artie dropped to his knees behind his partner's back. "Jim," he cried out, "for the love of God, what happened?" he reached for his friend's face, feeling warm blood. "Can you speak?"

"I'm alright," Jim whispered. His voice was weak and dry, "Just stuck."

"What?" Artie said, leaning closer to look at his friend's face. He rested his hand on Jim's shoulder and felt a sharp sting. "What the?" he shook his hand, feeling blood coming out of his fingers.

"Wire," Jim breathed, "stuck."

Artie leaned back and looked down Jim's side. In the starlight, he could make out silver wire wrapped around arms and legs. "Oh, you really did it this time, didn't you?" Jim gave him an annoyed growl, as Artie pulled at a length, trying to free Jim's left hand.

"No," Jim gasped, "…neck."

"Where?" Artie turned to look at Jim's face again. He ran has hand across Jim's shoulder and up his neck, feeling the wire against his skin. "Oh, don't move, there's a barb stuck in your neck."

"No kidding," Jim sighed. "…haven't moved…hours."

"I don't know how I found you," Artie said, slowly pulling the barb out of the bloody skin. He pulled on the length of wire but Jim gasped, feeling it tighten across his chest. Artie dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped the barb in it. He slowly lowered the wire back onto Jim's throat. "I wrapped the barb so you won't feel it. I have wire cutters in my saddlebags. I'll climb up and get them and cut you out of this." He scrambled back up the hill, using both hands, and hurried to his horse. Grabbing the wire cutters, a blanket, and the canteen, he slid back down the hill.

"I must have almost stepped on you coming down here the first time," Artie said, "I saw your horse. I could hear it from the road, luckily." He lowered the blanket over Jim's shoulders and pulled off his coat, folding it, he tucked it carefully under his partner's head. Then he busied himself with the cutters, snipping the wires away and pulling the barbs from skin and clothing. Soon Jim could move his left arm and raise his head. Artie reached under his shoulder and pulled him up into a sitting position, resting Jim's back against his chest. "Here," Artie said, holding the canteen so Jim could drink. "How long were you down here?"

"I left during the party," Jim said, the cool drink already helping his throat. "Around ten. I rode for an hour. So maybe since eleven." He took another drink, and growled, "Bastard shot my horse".

"He was a good horse," Artie sighed. "I hated to kill him but he was almost gone anyway."

"They might come back after hearing the shot," Jim said, trying to look into the darkness. "There were two of them. I could hear them talking. They wanted to come down the hill but they were afraid of Copperheads." He chuckled as he felt Artemus, behind him, jump at the snake comment. He pulled his right arm across his chest, grimacing. "I thought my right arm was just numb from laying on it for so long but…"

"Broken?"Artie watched his friend in the partial light, just able to discern the torn clothing and dark streaks of blood, and he cringed, suspecting the wounds would look terrible in the light. "You must feel pretty sore from the fall onto the rocks, lying in the cold for hours, stabbed by barbed wire, and now you have a broken arm. " He took a deep breath, "you have had a full night, James. I suggest we return to the house."

"Good idea," Jim said, "You going to carry me up that hill?" He looked up the stone covered bank.

"I could drag you?" Artie chuckled.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 Christmas Mystery

Jim heard the grumbling noise and froze. He listened as the sound came at regular intervals. His brain was foggy; he could almost place the sound but couldn't remember where he was. He tried to move and realized he was covered with something. He shifted his body, trying to move his arms, but his right one was numb and stiff. He slowly lifted his eyelids slightly, always cautious when waking in a strange place, which was the routine lately; he peeked out between his eyelashes.

"Artie," he whispered, smiling. His partner was slumped in a chair near the bed, his head tipped to one side, mouth open and snoring. Jim looked down at the blankets that were covering his body. He shifted again, trying to stretch sore muscles, and noticed bits of papers and cards piled on top of the bedding. "What the hell?" he muttered, pulling his left arm free of the sheet. He tried to grab at the papers but his hand was bandaged and stiff. "Hey, partner, what is all this?"

"What?" Artie said, sitting up suddenly. "Jim, you awake?" He yawned and stretched his back, looking around the room. "Oh, don't move," he said, grabbing at the papers. He tossed them back onto the bed and then leaned over to pick up the ones on the floor.

"Would you like me to sleep on the floor so you have more room?" Jim asked. "Or you could do this on your own bed, or even a table." He picked up a card and squinted at it. "Why do you have one of the Senator's Christmas cards?"

"I'm working," Artie said, grinning at him, "While you sleep."

"You were asleep too," Jim laughed, tossing the card at him. It fluttered to the floor and Artie retrieved it again. "Besides I had a difficult night." He gingerly touched his neck, groaning. "This really hurts. How do I look?"

"Oh, fine, James," Artie lied while he sifted thru the papers again, "you look just fine." He held up more cards, squinting at them, "I want your opinion, if you can see with that swollen eye."

Jim reached awkwardly around his face to touch his cheek, feeling the swelling under his right eye. "It does feel swollen. I think that's where I landed," he sighed. "How's my horse?"

"Your horse?" Artie said, the brown eyes widening with surprise. "Your horse is dead, Jim, I had to shoot it. The poor thing could barely raise its head. I'm sorry, I thought you remembered that." He knew how attached his friend had been to the animal. "It was a smart animal."

"Did you tell anyone what happened?" Jim asked. "Or did anyone see anything."

"The only people who saw you leave, " Artie said, "luckily, was Elizabeth, who saw the argument between Zylphia and that Lane boy, and then saw you go after him. Then the fellow in the barn also saw what direction you went in. But," he said, sorting papers again, "I just told everyone your horse stumbled and fell. And, again, lucky for you, the doctor was here at the house when we returned, seeing to the Senator's wife."

"To think I was feeling sorry for myself," Jim said, leaning back into the pillows. "It sounds like it's my lucky day instead." He watched his partner sort papers on the bed sheet, moving some down his legs, piling more on his stomach. "After you finish this game you're playing," he continued, "you should probably go bury the horse before someone sees it was shot. We may need to keep that a secret."

The brown eyes turned to him again, as Artie whispered, his voice grinding with irritation, "bury a horse? In that rocky ground? Jim, I couldn't bury a horse shoe in that bony ditch you landed in. If your luck holds out, I might get your tack for you. I suppose I could throw some branches over the horse." Jim groaned again, obviously worried. "And as for this game, give me your opinion…" He held up a handwritten letter and half a dozen cards and notes. "Any of these appear to match?"

Jim sighed and wiggled his butt, sitting up straighter on the mattress. He pushed the sheet and blankets around his waist and arraigned the papers on his thighs. "This one is out…and this one…" he kept pushing papers away, finally ending up with two, "these look similar," he said, holding them together, tilting them toward the sunlight coming in the window. "The spelling on the threatening letter is terrible and the handwriting is not as smooth however they do look about the same. Could someone be faking it, trying to appear uneducated?"

"It's possible," Artie said, taking the two pieces of papers back. "But this is the best match I can find, so far. I have been collecting notes, cards, and letters from all over the house."

"Well you need to put this all back before someone wonders what you are doing," Jim laughed, "So what is that note that matches, it appears to be a grocery list?"

"It's the menu for the dinner last night," Artie said, holding it up.

"The cook?" Jim said, "Why would the cook be threatening the Senator? We'll have to look into her past…"

"This wasn't written by the cook, Jim," Artie said, interrupting, "this was written by the Senator's wife." The agents exchanged looks. "So we should probably look into her past. I could send a telegraph to Washington but word would get back to the Senator. If only I had my own telegraph to send private messages."

Jim rubbed his face, muttering, "We could get the telegraph operator drunk or slip him some knockout powder." He leaned back again, "why would his wife be writing these letters? To upset him and get him to quit? Maybe she doesn't want to live in DC; though she doesn't seem interested in living here. She is younger than Senator. Maybe she will inherit and remarry another landowner nearby?" He shook his head and then held his forehead, moaning. "Ouch, I shouldn't do that."

"Well, you confirmed what I thought, Jim," Artie said, gathering the letters and putting them in the box. Then he stacked the cards and other notes.

"Is that why you were using me as a workbench?" Jim asked, "so you could ask my opinion when I woke up?"

"I was working in here," Artie said, "because when I was in my room, you kept making choking sounds or sounded like you weren't breathing at all. I moved in here so I could watch you, or poke you if you looked like you were dying," Artie growled. He stood up and crossed the room to the door, "but it's time we both got more rest. Nothing happens around here in the afternoon anyway. It's too hot."

"I need to go talk to the wranglers about Lane," Jim said, sitting up again. "I can see about a horse too. I sure would like that black one," he grinned up at his partner. Noticing the glare, he paused, "what?"

"You are going to rest for a few days," Artie said sternly, the brown eyes snapping with anger. "The doctor said no moving around so those cuts can heal." Jim started to protest but Artie cut him off "No discussion. Just rest, at least until tomorrow. He said they have a lot of Tetanus in the area and you need to heal. You don't need any more dirt rubbed in your skin right now." He held his hands out, waving bandaged fingers at Jim, "and I am going to rest too." He turned and shoved a wooden chair back underneath the door knob, blocking it from opening. "There, since there is no lock…"

Jim yawned and laid back on the pillows, "I am still pretty tired." He looked up at Artie as his partner crossed to the connecting door. "What's Tetanus anyway, or shouldn't I ask."

"Lockjaw," Artie said, stopping in the doorway. "Neither of us needs that."

"Shit," Jim said, "no, we don't. Well wake me for supper, partner." He looked at the chair and chuckled. "Careful falling asleep in your room. Someone may come out behind the fireplace!" He laughed as he heard his friend groan.

"Thanks, Jim," Artie called out, "thanks a lot." The bed squeaked as he lay down and soon the snores were heard again.

 _Before sunrise the next morning…._

Artemus leaned into Jim's room through the connecting doorway to make sure his partner was still asleep. Soft snores came from his friend in the gray light of dawn. The room was still cast in deep shadows but Artemus could see that the chair was still under the door knob. The evening dishes were still undisturbed on the side table, left there after their quiet, late evening meal the night before. Artie turned quietly, picked up his jacket and a large bundle of cloth, and slipped silently out his own bedroom door. The knob didn't lock but he didn't think anyone would disturb his partner in the daytime. He quickly walked outside to his horse, encountering only the man working in the stables. With a brief response to questions, he managed to leave the man a vague reason for his early travel.

 _Hours later…._

Jim sat up in his bed and stretched carefully, feeling bandages tighten across sore skin. He swung his feet out of the sheets and stood slowly on wobbly legs. He walked to the dry sink and poured water into the bowl from the enamel pitcher. Using a small towel, he washed his face and body as best he could using his left hand, avoiding the more painful cuts. Dipping a comb in the water, he straightened his hair. He pulled on his pants and then the shirt, poking his bandaged broken right arm into the sleeve. His bandaged fingers slowly fumbled with the buttons and then he straightened the shirt's collar and observed his reflection in the mirror over the basin.

He leaned closer to the mirror to inspect bruises on his face. Various scratches and the dark spot by one eye was all that could be seen above the collar's edge. Shaving would be impossible for a day or two, he mused. Leaning over too quickly to grab at his boots, his hand instead grabbed at the dry sink, steadying himself for a minute. Moving more slowly, he stomped his bare feet into his boots and then straightened. He walked slowly to the connecting door to confirm what he had suspected; his partner was long gone. His eyes caught a note, stuck with a tack, to the open door.

"Well partner," he grumbled, reading the short note, "You could have invited me to come with you." He crumpled the paper and tossed it into a waste basket. Sighing, he leaned onto the large window and peaked through the tree branches. People were busy in the miniature village behind the Senator's home, though the house itself seemed silent. Turning, Jim strode across his room and, moving the chair from the door knob, walked into the hallway. He moved faster with each step, the exercise pumping blood into his stiff legs. He walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. The staff, half dozen middle aged ladies of various shapes and sizes, all stopped their work as he entered the large room.

"Good morning," he smiled, noticing the smiles and blushes on the staff. "I was wondering if I could have a cup of coffee, without interrupting your work, of course."

Suddenly the women all burst into a flutter of activity, rushing about with many, "of course, sir," comments as they hurried to grab cups and fought over the coffee pot. The tallest woman, with the longest reach, was able to snatch the pot and turn to the woman holding the largest mug. "Here, sir," The woman said, holding the mug, walking carefully to Jim. She curtsied as she handed it to him.

"Thank you," Jim said, nodding, and then looking to the room of cooks. "Thank you all."

As he stepped away, toward the door, one woman exclaimed, "Oh, but, sir, you will be wanting your breakfast?" Women began scurrying about again, grabbing up pots and pans, "a good slab of beef and a half dozen eggs to start?"

"Oh, no," Jim said, backing up another step, as the women, obviously disappointed, fell silent and still. "Maybe later," he added, smiling and waving the mug. He turned and stepped out the back doorway, with a sigh of relief, and into the sunlight. Squinting, he walked toward the livery.

"Good morning, sir," the livery man said, meeting him in the doorway. "I didn't expect to see you up this early. Your friend said you took a tumble, you and the bay. Such a shame," he said, shaking his head slowly, "that was a magnificent horse."

"Yes," Jim nodded, agreeing. "He was a good horse. I had had him for about five years. Odd about him stumbling, he was very surefooted. It was in the dark and something must have spooked him." The old man sighed. "Did my friend ride out?"

"Yes, an hour or so ago," the man said. "He said to let you know that he would be back today at some point." He leaned closer, whispering, "He also said you were not to be riding anywhere, if you were to ask for a horse. He said it was doctor's orders."

Jim grimaced, "my friend worries too much. But I was going to walk for a bit anyway." He nodded and turned back to the small dirt road that led to the back areas of the buildings. He nodded greetings to many workmen as he strolled, keeping in the morning sun as much as possible, sipping the strong coffee. The sun's early rays slanted through the trees and gave a pink hue to the rough exteriors of the buildings. He stopped at one point to examine a large coil of barbed wire lying on the ground by the blacksmith's shop. A shiver ran up his back and he moved quickly back into the sunlit path.

"Hey, mister Washington man," a loud, taunting voice called out. "We heard you had a horse shot out from underneath you!"

Jim turned slowly to see a group of wranglers leaning against a wooden fence nearby. Noticing the man had said "shot", a fact only he and his attackers would know, he tried to listen to the voice, to determine if it matched one of the men from the night.

"Maybe you will be walking a lot now!" Another man yelled out, to the amusement of his friends. "Or maybe the Senator will sell you an old mule!"

Not recognizing the voices so far in this group, Jim turned and walked further down the road, knowing turning his back on them would goad them into following him. As expected, the group left the shade of their tree and walked a few steps behind him, still calling out insults. Jim listened to the various voices as he walked but none sounded familiar. Men along the road, working at various jobs, paused to watch the odd parade.

Between yells and curses of the group behind him, Jim heard the loud whinnying of a horse nearby as he approached the stables where he had last scene the black horse. He stepped onto a wooden cross beam on the fence and looked over the top to see a group of horses inside. They seemed to be mixing quietly and calmly; the aggressive black horse from earlier was not among them. As he stepped down, he heard the shrill whinny again of an animal in pain. Turning on the group of wranglers, he snapped, "Where is that coming from?"The men shrank back from Jim. The leader, the loudest earlier, though silent now that the quarry had aggressively turned on him, could only point at a smaller corral partially hidden behind a nearby barn.

Jim turned and hurried down the road. As the horse screamed again, he tossed the coffee mug to the ground and ran to the fence. Leaping up, he threw a leg over the top, his momentum carrying him off the ground and over the wooden wall. He dropped to the other side, his eyes quickly taking in the scene in the corral. The black was tied to a post in the middle of the small enclosure and a man with a long whip was striking it, the whip cracking in the air. The horse reared up, kicking out awkwardly. As it dropped to all fours, Jim noticed the front feet were entangled in another rope.

Jim moved quickly toward the man, his left fist coming up under the man's chin, connecting with his jaw bone. The man flew through the air, landing in the dust a dozen feet away. Jim stopped, his clenched fist resting on his hip as he turned to the horse. "You ok, big fella?" The horse turned to look at him and shook, whinnying softly. As Jim walked toward it, the group of wranglers that had followed him let out a whoop as they jumped over the fence to drop on the ground nearby.

"Think you can whip all of us, mister Washington man?" The loudest man glanced behind him, as if to make sure his friends were there, and advanced toward Jim. "You think that one fist can knock us all out?"

Jim's eyes glanced from one side to the other, counting five men slowly approaching. "Yes, I think I can knock all of you out, if you don't mind me…" he leaped into the air and kicked his right boot out, kicking the lead man in the chest. The man fell back into the group, the air swooshing out of his lungs. "…if you don't mind me using my feet!" Jim braced himself as the group dropped their stunned friend and attacked him. Jim knocked one to the ground with another left hook but the remaining men swarmed over him, knocking him to the ground. The pile of men swirled around in the dirt as other nearby workmen climbed onto the fence yelling bets to each other.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

In the town of Vacherie, near the Senator's home...

"My good man, I am the Federal Examiner for all telegraph operators in this region. But you tell me you have no inspection records for me to examine," the tall, distinguished man said, slapping the back of one hand into the palm of another for emphasize, "and you tell me you have no license," he slapped his hands again, "and you tell me you have never even been tested!" He shook his fist in front of the nose of a small, thin man before him. The man began trembling as words tumbled out of him.

"But, mister," he whined, "They just told me to send and receive the messages since I was the only one in town that knew how to run the telegraph." He stood in front of the small desk, in the small office, twisting his hands together. "I never knew I had to have a license. "

"Ignorance is no excuse," came the authoritative answer, as the examiner looked down his nose at the clerk. "I will have to close this office immediately." A gasp came from the crowd of curious towns people gathered in the doorway which was open to the sidewalk. Sunlight was sending early morning rays into the office illuminating the sparkling dust in the air and making the young telegraph operator squint. The older man moved sideways a bit, allowing even more light to shine in the clerk's eyes, knowing it would partially blind him.

"Isn't there a way we can avoid that?" The man asked quietly, nervously looking to the doorway at the people. "I don't want the mayor to hear about this. He is the one who hired me. I said I was qualified…"

"Qualified?" The examiner's voice boomed out in the small room. "Qualified? You just declared yourself qualified," he repeated, pulling out a pile of papers from his coat. "How can you say you are qualified without taking this test? This is the Federal government certification exam to demonstrate that you know what you are saying is correct! You could be typing anything!"

"But," the little man quivered, "maybe I could take the test now?"

"Now?" He blasted, "Now? And I suppose you expect me to run the telegraph while you take the test now? It's a little late, don't you think?"

"Well, but…" the man said, leaning closer to peek at the papers, ""If I pass it, wouldn't that mean my messages have been correct all this time?"

The examiner threw both arms out to his side, in obvious exasperation, "I suppose if you enjoy doing everything backwards, then, yes, we could do that. I hope it doesn't take you more than an hour or two. I have other stops to make. I bet this whole area is full of telegraph operators with no licenses!"

"Then I can?" The little man grabbed at a handful of pencils, tipping over his pencil cup onto the floor in his haste. He snatched the cup and the other pencils up, dumped them back on the desk, and whirled around. "Ok, I can do that now?"

"Not in here, you can't!" He stepped aside, handed him the papers, and pointed to the door. "Outside with you. And don't ask anyone for help, not even the mayor!?" The man scurried to the door as the crowd fell away. The examiner walked to the doorway and gave everyone, which dared match his gaze, a cold stare. "No one is to help him! And no one is to enter this office until he is finished! Do I make myself clear?" The crowd backed away further, murmuring to each other.

The little man nodded and sat down on a bench, "that's ok, mister, no one else in town knows how to read Morse code. That's why I am the expert."

"You're no expert," The examiner said, growling fiercely, "Until I say you are an expert. Knock on this door when you are finished!"

Artemus slammed the door and collapsed against its inside panel. "Well, that wasn't so hard after all." He grinned and walked to the desk, pulling off his fake nose and grey-haired wig. He sat at the desk and removed another sheaf of papers from an inside coat pocket. He spread them on the desk and began tapping on the telegraph key. "Come on, Washington, Artie needs a few answers!"

Later that morning….

Artie rode back through the warm sunlight to the Senator's home. The ride was not as long as the carriage ride had been. Carriages carrying young ladies, with the roof piled high with packages from shopping, often did not make fast time, he chuckled to himself. He reined up to the livery and the usual man came out.

"Good morning, sir," he said, "I hope you had a pleasant ride."

"Yes, very," Artemus said, handing the man a coin. "And I appreciate you taking such good care of my horse while I am here. And of my friend's horse too, before it had the mishap of course." He leaned closer, whispering, "My friend didn't give you trouble this morning, did he; try to ride somewhere?"

"Oh, no," the man said, smiling. "He stopped by to say good morning and then said he was going to go for a walk." The man snickered, "he didn't walk far before trouble found him. Your friend seems to be a magnet for trouble."

"What?" Artie said, his eyes darting around the barn and then outside. "What happened? Where is he?"

"Down with the horses, I hear," the man said. "He said he wanted to talk with them wranglers but he talks differently than most men," he said, chuckling again. He pointed down the road toward the corrals. "Everyone is down there, watching the spectacle now," he said.

Artie turned and leaped into his saddle and rode quickly down the road. He passed the big corral where Jim watched horses the day earlier and continued on to where a large crowd had gathered. He paused, back from the crowd, watching a mass of men who were alternating cheering and booing while shaking fists full of money. Artie strained his neck, trying to look past the crowd but just saw more people beyond. Many in the crowd were sitting on the top edge of another wooden wall beyond which must be where the action was happening. Artie nudged his horse forward and a few men, obviously recognizing him, stepped aside. As the crowd parted before him, he was able to ride up to the wooden wall of the corral. Beyond which was a scene he had often watched before but still felt nerve-wracking.

Jim was standing, feet wide, arms out to his sides, body bent at the waist as he faced his opponent. The other man was positioned in the same manner, but one hand held a knife. Jim should have been at a disadvantage with his broken right arm, but he had pulled his arm from his sling and appeared to be holding the injured arm out at least for balance. The cast on his forearm was filthy with dirt and the sling was on the ground, trampled into the dust of the corral.

Artie watched, tensely at first, but then noticed his friend's smile. He appeared amused by the threat of being sliced open. Artie's breath caught as the man swung the knife at Jim, but he simply leaned back and let the man's momentum carrying him past. Then Jim tripped the man and gave him a punch in the spine with his left fist. The man stumbled a few steps and fell face down into the dirt.

The crowd cheered and booed even louder and more money exchanged hands. Artie watched the men disperse and wondered absently what the odds had been. He looked back to see Jim stepping over the man he had just finished to approach the black horse.

"Whoa, big fella," Jim's deep voice said, soothing the stallion. He reached down to untie the horse's feet, noticing that the animal seemed to wait patiently for him to work. He then removed the length of rope from the post and it immediately backed away from him. "You're all right now," Jim said softly. He let the rope drop and backed away, trying to show the animal he didn't mean to harm it. "No one is going to hit you anymore. Come on, walk over and get some water with me." His voice seemed to calm the horse and he walked past it, sliding his left hand down its neck.

Jim moved to a nearby water trough and worked the pump. Fresh water, sparking in the sun, filled the wooden trough. Jim leaned forward and soaked his head in the stream. He heard a moan and then the horse scream again behind him. He spun to see the man start to get up off the ground with the knife but the horse kicked him with its front hooves, knocking him backwards. The horse shook its head and blew, stomping the ground near the now unconscious body.

"Ok," Jim chuckled, "you finished him off for me. Good job," he said. The horse looked at him and he moved the pump, knowing the water would attract the animal. The horse slowly walked to the trough and stood next to him, lowering its head to drink. Jim again stroked its neck. "You're a smart fellow, aren't you?"

"I think he may be smarter than you, partner," Artie said, walking his horse closer, keeping the wall between them. "Is this what you call resting?"

Jim grinned up at him, "You told me I couldn't ride a horse anywhere and I had to stay close by. So I did." He ran a hand threw his wet hair, straightening it. "Besides, these fellas seemed to know what happened to my horse, a couple mentioned it being shot, so I wanted to ask them."

Artemus looked behind him at the corral and counted six unconscious men lying in different, odd positions on the ground. "Did you beat any information out of them? Or maybe the horse did?"

Jim shook his head, and turned to pat the horse again. "No, we couldn't get them to talk, could we?" The horse nickered at him and shook its head. Turning back to his partner, "and was your morning productive?"

"I sent the message, privately," Artie said, sighing, "I hope to hear back today but it may take a while longer. Be ready for a telegram to arrive for a Mister James West from Washington." Jim nodded. "I also asked about the wrangler, Roger Lane, that was bothering Zylphia and then you rode out after. "

Jim looked up at him, obviously confused, "Zylphia called him McKenzie?"

Artie paused, "are you sure? Elizabeth said his name was Roger Lane." He shook his head, "I can't get straight answers out of these girls and the adults barely speak to me. This is crazy." He paused again, thinking out loud, "maybe I need to leave and come back disguised as a crippled war hero from Louisiana or some other such southern location…"

Jim laughed, "Maybe it's the guy's nickname. We'll ask them later. They may be out of bed by noon. No one moves very fast around this place anyway which is slowing our investigation." He walked over the sling and picked it up, shaking the dirt off. He lowered it over his head and slipped his sore arm in it, stretching his shoulder. "I need lunch. And I think this horse needs lunch. They had it tied to that post and were whipping it. I don't think they hurt it any but I didn't like it." He walked back to stroke his hand over the horse's flank, speaking softly to him. "I am going to ask the Senator if I can buy this fella…"

Artie squinted into the sunshine, "well you can ask him right now because he is riding over."

Jim turned to see the older man ride up to the corral walls. The man's eyes widened as he took in the scene inside the round structure. He turned to Jim, and observed his filthy clothes, "What happened here, West?"

"Just interviewing some of the men here, sir," Jim said, his voice full of innocence. "Why?"

The Senator looked around again, "should I get a doctor for these men?"

"Oh, no," Artie said, "they'll be fine, sir. They're just resting." He nodded, reassuring the man, "sometimes Jim can be too persistent with his questioning, if you know what I mean."

The Senator looked back at Jim, obviously wondering how the agent, with a broken right arm, had defeated a group of tough wranglers. Shaking his head, he agreed, "You seem to be able to discuss topics with large groups of men. I would not have expected that but I suppose Federal agents are different than our local lawmen."

"That's why the President sends us, sir," Jim said. "If I could have a word with you," he paused, stroking the horse again, "some of these men said this horse has been acting dangerous toward them and appears unable to be broken. I was hoping you and I could come to an agreement about it."

"You want that crazy thing?" The Senator let out a lard bark of a laugh, "you are welcome to it. I was going to have them release it soon but it seems to like you. I would warn you that it might kill you if you try to ride it but you seem to be full of surprises. You are welcome to it."

Jim smiled up at him, "Thank you, sir. I always appreciate a challenge." He cleared his throat and said softly, "I am expecting an important telegram soon regarding your situation. I am hoping it will shed some light on what has been going on. We have a few leads we are investigating."

"Good," the Senator said, "I haven't had another message since the one yesterday. I am hoping that whoever this crazy man is, he may have found something else to do with his time. I know I am a busy man!" He nodded to the agents and rode away.

Artie watched him leave and noticed another person approaching. He turned back to Jim, "I think I will go look for Elizabeth. Zylphia is heading over here. Maybe you can get her to talk."

Jim looked down at himself, noting the dirt caked pants and the sweat stained white shirt that now was ripped open and missing all of its buttons. He ran his wet hand over his face, grinning, "I hope I don't look too terrible."

Artie chuckled, "oh, she probably likes the rough and tumble look anyway." He nodded to the girl as she approached the corral fence. "Miss," he said, tipping his hat to her. He turned his horse and headed back to the house.

Later that afternoon….

"Zylphia showed me some letters this McKenzie wrote her." He called out to his partner in the other bedroom as he stood in front of the dry sink in his room. He pulled off his shirt and pants and began to wipe his face and arms with a wet washcloth, dipping it in the ceramic bowl of water, "Which is his middle name, by the way. She said his father is Roger Lane Sr." He heard his partner grunt, and then continued, "I didn't read them, I just wanted to see his hand writing, I was thinking he might be the one that matches the penmanship of the threatening letters." He wiped down his chest and stomach and dipped the washcloth again. The clean water quickly turned brown with dirt and bits of leaves floating in it. Grimacing, he looked in the pitcher to see only a small amount of water remaining.

"Well, did it look the same?" Artie asked eagerly. "And were the same words misspelled?"

"All the words were misspelled," Jim said, laughing, "I doubt he can spell his own name. I think he skipped too much school to break wild horses. Or maybe he just fell on his head too many times." He dipped the dirty cloth into the pitcher and wiped his bare legs clean.

"Well it didn't sound like something a wrangler would do anyway," Artie said, sighing.

"I was surprised when she told me he wrote her letters," Jim added. "I thought if he had a romantic touch maybe he would also be crazy enough to write threatening notes. But his writing was more like hen scratches so we can cross him off the list. Except that I didn't like the tone of his words," he added, thinking back to the small parts he had read. "He really wants to marry her and inherit this ranch. She told him she was adopted but he insists that she would still inherit." He shook out the washcloth, trying to dislodge the leaves. Standing on one foot, he wiped one off at a time, noticing he was just smearing the mud now. "Hey, Artie, do you have any clean water? This isn't working."

"Sure," Artie said, walking in with another pitcher. He stared at his partner, naked and covered with dirt and scratch marks. "You're a disaster, you know that?" He switched pitchers on the dry sink, then continued. "Did Zylphia seem afraid of him? Elizabeth said he has been getting angry with her."

"I think she is nervous," Jim said, "and will be relieved to leave here after Christmas next weekend and get back to New York." He rinsed his washcloth out in the new pitcher, not bothering with the dirty washbowl, and continued wiping his skin.

Artie returned to his room and came back with a clean washcloth, minus the dirty pitcher. Tossing it to Jim, he leaned against the large open window and continued, "What type of person would do this persecution? Secretive, yes? Lots of time reading and creating letters, yes?"

"Nothing better to do with their time," Jim added, thinking out loud now too, "it could be anyone. It could be the wife of a nearby landowner. Or someone we haven't met yet." He shook his head. "This could take longer than I thought if we can't catch a break." He paced, "starting with the people we have met, it's not Zylphia because she is too lazy to do much of anything; I can't see Elizabeth doing it because she just seems too pleasant; and then we are back to his wife or someone else's wife."

Artie nodded, "yes, it just seems to be something a woman would do." He nodded, "I need to get into his wife's bedroom during supper tonight. Even for an instant. It may be her and she is faking the misspelled words."

Jim walked to his bed, yawning, "well, I am having a long afternoon nap. Wake me for supper tonight. And stay out of trouble," he added, lying down on the bed. He pulled the sling off over his head and tossed it to the floor and pulled a thin sheet up over his legs and waist, "Too hot to think now anyway." The afternoon breeze came in through the window and the branches rattled against the glass. "Hope no one climbs through the window to get me."

"I thought you were worried about the fireplace opening into a secret tunnel," Artie muttered, glanced out the window, to see a few people moving outside in the hot afternoon sun. The wranglers had been told to keep away from the black stallion now and the man in the stables said he would bring it hay and grain. The area seemed to be moving towards its usual siesta in the humid afternoon. Artie moved across Jim's door and jammed the wooden chair under the door knob. He ignored Jim's chuckle and went to his room to rest.

Artemus lay on his side, eyes shut, not really asleep for a long time. He listened to the voices outside and the branches rattle against the house in the breeze. Occasionally he could hear the soft snores of his partner from the other room. Finally, as he drifted to sleep, he heard a loud click of something metallic close by. He opened his eyes in time to see the fireplace swing out into his room. His heart stopped beating as his mind screamed…'it's a dream, Artemus, you're asleep'…and he watched a small figure in white move out into his room. The ghostly image paused at the end of his bed and then moved slowly into the doorway of Jim's room. The soft breeze moved the white shift of cloth as the figure disappeared into the far room. Jim!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9.

As the ghostly white, miniature figure glided into Jim's room, Artemus silently slid from him his bed and flattened himself against the bedroom wall. He moved sideways along the wall until he was behind the open connecting door. Peeking around it, he could just see the figure stop a few steps from the bed his partner was sleeping in. He tensed, ready to intercede, if he or she approached any closer or drew a weapon; instead the figure turned and glided back into his room. As it passed his hiding spot, Artie could see plainly who the apparition was. He stifled a chuckle and rolled his eyes. He moved slightly again as the figure passed behind the edge of the fireplace which was still in place, turned halfway into his room.

"Well, now where does this lead to," Artie muttered to himself, quickly stepping into his pants. He grabbed a shirt and moved to the fireplace as it slowly moved back into place. Snatching up a note pad, he reached around to place it in the jamb between the fireplace mantle and the wall. The latch did not click and the fireplace seemed to be immobilized like a stuck door. "That should do it," he muttered again, taking his hand off the sheath of papers. The pad, still stuck, hung in the crevice.

Artie pulled on his shirt and did the buttons, pausing to listen occasionally. Looking at his boots, he shook his head and remained barefoot. He pulled on the mantle and the note pad at the same time. The fireplace moved a few inches and he was able to look down the tunnel. Faint rays of light were coming down from the ceiling through a row of narrow clearstory windows just under the eaves, to light the inside hallway. He opened the fireplace/door and slipped the notepad in the crevice again, pulling the door shut behind him. From the inside, he noted, the door was clearly seen but not the mechanism.

"Now, where did she go," Artie whispered, as he hurriedly tiptoed down the hall. Rounding a corner, he saw the small figure down a long hallway. She was spinning, standing on toes, arms out-raised. Artie was about to speak to her when she moved forward again. The hallway continued, as the girl and her unseen pursuer moved past many doorways. Artie kept count, hoping to match it to the bedroom doorways in the main hallway. He paused as he watched the girl reach up and touch the right side of a door frame, briefly pressing her hand on an unseen handle, and the door popped open. The girl moved inside and the door shut.

Artemus hurried forward to study the spot where the girl had held her hand. He reached up and felt a bump in the door frame. Smiling, he moved to the door next to it. Reaching up, he felt the same bump. Nodding now, he slowly moved back down the hall. Approaching his own door, with the note pad still stuck in the door frame, he again felt the bump in the wood. He pulled the notepad out and moved back into his room. He moved to the connecting door and checked on Jim. His partner was still sound asleep.

"Jim," Artie sighed, moving back to his bed, "you sure guessed it this time."

Later…after the evening meal….

"How was dinner," Artie called out to his partner when he heard him enter the connecting room. "Did you bring me anything?"

Jim poked his head in through the doorway, "ya, I poured soup into my pants pocket when no one was looking. " He paused, staring at his partner. "That's an interesting paper, Artemus. Did someone beat you to the best articles?" He watched Artie turn the page of the paper, holes obvious in both sheets. His partner was reclining on his bed, a pile of pillows behind his back and another pile of newspapers over his legs.

"There was something here that someone wanted, that's for certain," Artie said, folding the paper shut. "You will never guess where I found these."

"Never?" Jim chuckled. He moved a chair from his room into Artie's, turned it backwards, and sat down, straddling it. He rested his forearms on the back of the chair and watched his friend, knowing an interesting story was about to unfold. Artemus had been secretive and elusive before dinner, obviously deep in thought when he had turned down his evening meal. Now he seemed eager to talk. Jim leaned forward, "can't I at least get twenty chances?"

Artie grinned, "I could give you a hundred and twenty and you wouldn't guess." He shook the paper. "I found these with piles of others, along with dozens of articles cut out. Each article was about a death or an accident, even just someone traveling," Artie continued, "many different types of disasters; fires to floods, and not all from local papers. There were some from New York. And they had been saved for months."

"Ok, partner," Jim said, holding out a hand. "Obviously you have found the source of the news articles. But did you see any threatening letters?" He paused as Artie nodded a confirmation. "Really? A letter?"

"Ready for delivery," Artie said.

The agents exchanged a stare. Jim sighed, "So do I get to see this collection?"

Artie chuckled, placing the paper on the pile on the bed next to his legs. "I don't know," he said, winking, "maybe I should have you guess. Your attempts could be very entertaining."

Jim stood up, fists on hips, snapping, "I'm not guessing. Let's go." He walked to his partner's bedroom door and stood, one hand on the knob, waiting impatiently.

Artie swung his legs off the bed and moved to the fireplace. "Oh, not out in the hallway, Jim. Would you believe there is a tunnel behind this?" Jim gave him a suspicious look. "Oh, you were right, partner," he said, moving his hand to the inner door frame, he pressed the bump in the wood. A loud click was heard and he winked at Jim. Grasping the mantle with the other hand, he pulled, swinging the fireplace into the room.

Jim stepped quickly to Artie's side and helped pull. Grinning, he whispered, "and how did you figure this out?" Artie just winked again and stepped into the inner hallway. "Let me guess," Jim sighed, peeking into the dimly light pathway, "you explored this while the family was at dinner?" Artie nodded, "you could have asked me to join you. "

"I didn't think it looked particularly dangerous," Artie said, "no gangs of ruffians or wranglers to fight, no booby trapped explosives," he laughed softly. "Much too tame for your skills."

"Hmmm," Jim said, thinking of the boring dinner conversations he had just endured. "Well, lead on, partner," he said, waving Artie ahead of him. They walked quickly down the hallway, Artie pointing to rectangular cut-outs in the wall as they moved, explaining that each was the back side of a doorway behind the fireplace in each room. "So you entered every room tonight?"

"Yes," Artie said. "I wanted to check each one briefly just to see if anything looked odd."

"I guess one room looked very odd," Jim added. Nearing the end of the hallway, he said, "so where are we going? How far does this hall way run, anyway?" The light was very dim, now that evening was approaching. They could barely see each other and Jim noticed that his partner was sliding his hand along the hallway wall, counting the doorways.

"The last room is the largest," Artie said, "Mrs. Harris has more of a suite that just a bedroom. There is a living room with a balcony. It's very comfortable and seems to be where she spends most of her time. Odd…" He paused at a rectangular mark, "and this is the room just before it. Do you remember who's room this is?"  
Jim nodded, "Lucy's, She's right next to her mother." He started to push at the door but Artie reached around him, placing his fingers on the side of the doorway's frame. The click was heard and the door released. "Interesting," Jim said, pushing the door easily now.

They stepped inside to see a room full of clutter. Clothing was tossed onto furniture and spilled onto the floor, books lay open on the bed, and plates of half eaten food were everywhere. The two men stepped over the refuse, careful not to disturb anything. They moved to a desk where Artie quietly pointed to a letter, same badly written words marked above a glued on scrap of news article. Jim leaned closer, reading the article and inspecting the letter. He made growling noises and then moved to the piles of newspapers nearby. He paused, looking around the room, noting other newspapers in the farther corners.

"Alright, I've seen enough of this pigsty," Jim sighed, turning back to the now open fireplace. The men left and walked in silence back to their rooms.

"Shocked?" Artie asked quietly, after shutting his own fireplace. "Disappointed?"

Jim shook his head, "I know it looks obvious that Lucy is the author of the letters but I want to make sure before we confront her." He paced the room, trying to cross his arms in front of his chest but the right arm in the sling made the movement awkward. Then his left hand balled up and tried to punch his right, but that didn't work either. He finally stopped pacing to punch a wall, making a hallow thud, and turned to Artie. "If we accuse her, the Senator will think we're nuts, the mother will have fits, and the rotten kid will declare she is just copying his old threatening letters." He growled again in frustration, "Lucy probably walks that hidden hallway all the time, watching and listening to everyone's conversations. She probably knows more about this situation than we do." Artie nodded in agreement. "We have to catch her delivering the letter to the Senator," He shook his head, "and why would she do this anyway?"

"She's bored," Artie said, "she was living in the exciting world of New York city and was dragged down here to the woods. She can't go riding alone, her mother pays no attention to her, and she has no friends," he shook his head, "Even we ignored her when we probably should have interviewed her more than her sisters. She is highly intelligent."

"She's probably smarter than her two sisters combined," Jim chuckled. "I just can't believe we came all this way down here to discover a child's prank."

"You told me when you talked me into this crazy job," Artie said, poking a finger firmly into his partner's chest, "that I wouldn't get shot at all the time. So maybe this is one of those rare, non-dangerous cases."

"Except that I got shot at," Jim said, the blue eyes twinkling. He poked Artie in the chest, "remember? Someone tried to kill me. And I broke my arm, if you haven't notice."

"I am starting to think that disasters will happen to you on a daily basis no matter what you're doing," Artie laughed, "so let's see if the mail is delivered tomorrow morning with a secret letter inside. Lucy does bring the mail in every morning directly to the Senator in his office. Then she probably hides in the hallway outside and laughs as he declares he is being hunted." Jim rubbed his eyes, growling irritably. "But tonight I have to do something very important…immediately!"

"What?" Jim snapped, looking at him.

"Eat!" Artie said, rubbing his stomach. "I'm starving. Since you didn't feed me, I am going to sneak into the kitchen and feed myself."

Jim slapped his back. "I'll go with you," he said. "I need more to eat anyway. You had me so worried earlier, with not wanting dinner that I could barely eat a thing. Let's go celebrate our break in the case with a midnight snack."

At breakfast, the next morning…..

"Mr. West," Elizabeth came into the dining room, Lucy close at her heels, with her hand outstretched. Jim turned at the sound of her voice as he stood, pouring a cup of coffee at the sideboard table. She curtsied when she reached him and held her hand out. Somewhat breathless, she said, "there was a telegram for you this morning. The delivery man just brought it from town." The two girls waited as he took the sealed telegram.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," Jim said, smiling. He looked around the taller girl's shoulder to see Lucy watching closely. "And you too, Lucy," he added, giving another dazzling smile. He pinched the envelope in his right hand, trying not to use his fingers, and managed to rip open the seal. Unfolding it, he quickly scanned the message. "Very interesting," he said, watching the reactions of the young ladies in front of him, "Very useful too."

"Is it something about the bad person?" Elizabeth whispered, "Artemus wouldn't tell me any details but I know you are tracking a killer."

"A killer?" Jim laughed, "Not today, young lady."

"May I see it?" Lucy asked. Her sister spun and shushed her. "I just love secret letters."

Don't you, Jim thought to himself. He smiled and nodded, handing them the letter to inspect. "I need to keep it but you can certainly look at it."

"But it doesn't say anything," Elizabeth protested, looking at the assortment of capital Y's and N's. "What does it mean?"

Lucy snapped back, "It's in code, silly," she announced, "all important communication is always in code." She turned to Jim, holding the telegram to her chest. "I can help you translate the message. I am good with secret codes. Is it a book code?"

"No," Jim said, holding his hand out and wiggling his fingers. "The code is in my head and I will read it myself, but thank you for the offer." The girl reluctantly put the note back in his hand and he quickly put it in a secure pocket inside his vest. "Breakfast?" The girls nodded and moved with him to the table.

Jim sat down next to Artemus, who was already seated and sipping his coffee. Mrs. Harris sat across from him and was listening to his explanation for having missed dinner the previous night. "Oh, just a touch of indigestion," Artie said, smiling. "It cleared up and I came down later in the evening. The cook warmed me up some soup for a late supper." The lady smiled, obviously pleased with the explanation. "And how are you this morning? Will you be going out today?"

"Oh, no," the lady said quietly, her hand absently rubbing her stomach. "I will just have some juice this morning and return to my rooms." She nodded a good morning to Jim as he sat down. "I don't like to eat until later in the morning. I come down to say good morning to everyone as they start their day. My husband is so busy," she smiled. "And it's so nice to have all three daughters under the same roof again. Though they tell me they want to return to New York after Christmas."

"New York is exciting over New Year's Eve," Artemus said, looking at Elizabeth. "There will be many dances and parties." Elizabeth blushed, looking down at her food. He looked at Jim who was now drinking coffee next to him, "For those of us hardy enough to withstand the cold north winds."

"I can stand it," Jim said, grimacing, "I just don't like it. I would rather go south for New Year's." He pulled the telegram from his pocket and handed it to Artemus. He watched as his partner opened it and reviewed the coded reply, knowing the letters stood for Yes and No answers from the research people at Headquarters in Washington. He wondered what the questions had been. "Hope that helps," Jim said quietly. Artie nodded, lost in thought, and tucked the letter into an inner pocket.

"Artemus," Mrs. Harris said, "maybe you could speak to Elizabeth about safe places to be in the city during the celebrations. And encourage her to go with an escort," she added, ignoring her daughter's protest.

The remainder of the meal was spent discussing the wonders of New York. After breakfast, as the hall clock struck nine o'clock, Lucy jumped to her feet and declared it was time to check for the mail. The agents exchanged a glance and excused themselves from their hostess, moving to wait in the hallway outside of the Senator's office. Hoping for the expected threatening letter to mysteriously appear, they knew they only needed one more to close their case.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10.

Jim stood in the shade, under the spreading branches of a live oak tree, the sun's rays shifting in the movement of the leaves. He tucked some lose shredded tobacco into a square of paper and rolled it into a cigarette. He lit it and put it to his lips, reclining against a large branch. His eyes watched the people moving up and down the street. Soon the delivery wagon came and the man quickly hopped out and shoved a handful of mail into a large wooden box on a pole on the edge of the roadway. The man moved back to his wagon and, turning his horse, moved back up the dusty street toward the main road.

Jim puffed on his small cigarette, making smoke rings in the leaves. Before the paper was burned away he spotted Lucy move to the front door from inside the house. She looked behind her and then moved quickly down the front path to the mail box. As she walked, it was obvious that she held something in her left hand. Jim squinted at it and could just make out a white envelope tucked in her fingers. When she reached into the mailbox and pulled out the mail, her white envelope was carefully tucked amongst the other letters. She turned and, skipping up the path, hurried back into the house.

Jim dropped his cigarette onto the dirt and ground his heel into it. "Brat," he snarled, and stomped toward the house. He paused in the doorway, seeing the back of Lucy's dress as she passed into the Senator's office. He turned to see Artemus step out from behind a door where he had been watching the child's movements inside the hall. Jim nodded to his partner and they both moved to the office. As they reached the door, Lucy reappeared, smiling sweetly.

"Good morning," she said, smiling at the agents. She hurried between them and walked into the back of the house toward the kitchen.

Jim and Artemus had managed to smile back to her, Artemus even returned the greeting, but they both exchanged a dark look as the Senator called out from his office.

"West!" The man shouted, "Gordon! Where are you? It's happened again…" he stopped short as the two men walked in. "Oh, there you are. Good," he said, obviously shaken. He held out the opened letter, the envelope crumpled on the floor under his boots. "Here is another one! I have had enough of your incompetence! I am writing the President today to ask.."

"Sir," Jim said, interrupting the tirade. "This will be the last one. The mystery has been solved." The Senator stopped, his mouth hung open, and the letter fell from his fingers. It fluttered to the desk top where a cigar was burning and burst into flames as it touched the hot end.

"No!" Artemus exclaimed, leaping forward and grabbing the burning letter. He dropped it to the carpeted floor and stomped out the flame. Reaching down he snatched it up again and pressed it between his palms, wincing at the hot paper.

"My God, man," The Senator snapped, as Jim stared at his partner in surprise, "I have given you dozens of those. Why do you need one more?"

"Because, sir," Artemus said, "this one is very significant." He examined the letter, which remained almost fully intact. He turned and nodded, obviously relieved.

"As I was saying, Senator Harris," Jim continued, turning back to face the confused man, "It may have appeared that we were not investigating your case but we were in our own style. It's been a long week but we just needed one more letter. The mystery is solved. We need to tie up some lose ends this afternoon and will meet with you again before dinner." Jim spun on his toes and walked from the office, followed by Artemus who was still pressing the letter between his hands.

They moved into Artie's room where the letter was quickly reviewed by both agents. "This looks the same to me, Artemus," Jim growled, "right down to the same misspelled words."

Artie chuckled, taking the letter back, "Oh, this one is special, James, very special. Let's go find the author." They moved around the fireplace and down the secret passageway toward Lucy's room. Jim pressed the hidden latch on the inner doorway and released the mechanism that opened the door behind her fireplace. Stepping into the room, with Artemus at his heels, he stood, left fist on his hip, to glare down at the young girl who stood amidst the chaos of her room.

"Young lady," Jim said sternly, "we need to talk with you." Artie reached around his partner to wave the letter. "We know it's you so don't try denying it, either."

"Maybe I don't want to deny it," Lucy said, carefully looking from one man to the other, "unless you try to get me in trouble. Then you'll need proof." She folded her arms and looked back at Jim, defiance blazing in her eyes.

Artie let out a snort and laid a hand on his partner's forearm, stopping his friend from speaking. "I found this letter," he said, "on your desk earlier today. I have been in your room now a couple of times. I saw you open the fireplace in my room and sneak in, then I followed you back here. We know about the tunnel and how to unlock the doors."

"So maybe the letter was in the mail," Lucy said, "you can't say I wrote it. I just bring in the mail."

"It was on your desk this morning," Artemus said, "and I wrote my initials on the back," he added turning the paper over. The girl, and his partner, both leaned closer as he pointed to tiny letters "AG" in the lower corner. "You didn't even notice, did you? You just stuffed it in the envelope." Lucy opened her mouth to protest as he stepped to a pile of newspapers. Removing the top one and unfolding it, he said, "and the article in this letter came from this paper," pointing at a hole in the page. "Are you still going to deny this?"

"Well," Lucy said, "I might have done it. So what? No one cares what I do." She threw herself on her bed and covered her face with her arms. "I hate this place! I was only writing those letters to add some excitement. I stopped a while ago because it was getting boring but then you two came and it was exciting again." She sat up, looking at them, her cheeks flushed, "you two were so much fun to watch as you searched the house for clues and kept interviewing everyone. It was hysterical! I just had to start writing more letters!" She flopped back down onto the bed, "so don't be mad at me. It's your own fault for making a mountain out of a mole hill!"

Jim looked at the ceiling and counted quietly, backwards, from ten, as he stretched his arm in front of him and flexing his shoulders. Artie sighed heavily next to him, stuffing the letter into a pocket.

"All right, Lucy," Jim said quietly, taking a deep breath, "This is what we're going to do." He walked over and sat on the corner of her bed. Artie pulled out the child's desk chair and sat carefully. "I have learned a lot playing this game with you. I was looking for a killer; I jumped to conclusions when I should have looked for facts. So that's a plus. And," he paused, thinking, "You, having caused us to come here, may have helped stop a more serious crime from happening so that is also a good thing."

The girl sat up, listening to his voice," what other bad thing has happened?"

"It didn't happen," Jim corrected, "or hasn't yet. But what do we do with you?" He turned to Artie and winked, "is that prison for children still out in the desert?"

"Oh, well, Jim," Artie said, instantly catching on to Jim's idea, "you can hardly think of sending her to that hell hole in the Mohave Desert. She would die in a matter of months."

"This is serious, Artemus," Jim argued, "and it's the only prison for children. What else can we do with her? We can't leave her here to continue to write letters."

"What if I promised to stop," she said quietly, watching the agents more nervously now. Her smile was gone and her face was getting red.

Jim and Artie both turned to stare hard at her. Artie asked quietly, "where would you like to live, if you didn't live here?"

The girl blurted out, "at a school in New York City! I found one that takes girls my age. And I could ride the trains back with Elizabeth and Zyphelia after Christmas!" She slouched again, "but I haven't asked my mother yet. I don't think she'll let me go."

"If we can talk your mother into letting you go to this school," Artie said slowly, "would you go and stop writing these letters?" The girl nodded. "Good, because we don't want to have to send such a bright young lady to prison." The men stood and waited for her to slip off the bed. She stood between them, looking up at them.

"Can we surprise my mother from the tunnels?" She grinned as Artie smiled back.

"Sure, why not," Artie agreed, "she wouldn't believe us if she didn't see it first."

Jim nodded but added, "I will knock on her door from the main hallway. You two can sneak through the tunnels." He paused, and looked down at Lucy, "do you think your mother will speak to us this afternoon? She seems to be in her room a lot. I don't want to interrupt her."

"Oh, she won't care," Lucy said, "she is just reading." Lucy moved quickly to pull at her fireplace. Opening the tunnel again, she and Artemus slipped into the shadows and Jim moved out the door, "Race you!" Lucy shouted as the fireplace slid closed.

Later, in the suite….

"I don't want you two to feel disappointed," Mrs. Harris said, "but this is an easy solution to the problem, don't you think?" She smiled at the two agents who were sitting on padded dining chairs in the sunroom, just beyond her bedroom. The group had just finished tea, after Lucy had confessed to her role in the mystery of the threatening letters. In fact, once started, it had been difficult for the adults to stop her from talking. "Or will your boss expect someone to be arrested and brought to prison?"

"They even said there was a prison for children," Lucy blurted out, giggling now behind her hand as Artemus reached out to gently pinch her arm, making her squeal.

"Our supervisor realizes that not all missions we are sent on have the same result," Jim said, "sometimes we end the threat without apprehending the perpetrator. In this instance, we will report it as solved and the criminal turned from a life of crime to a life of serving others for good." He winked at Lucy and she dissolved into giggles again. "However I am more worried about what to tell Senator Harris. I am hoping he will be content with the knowledge that the threat is now gone and not to reappear," he added, looking at the child, "right, young lady?" The girl nodded vigorously. "He is a busy man and this will also keep the matter more private."

"What do you mean, more private," the woman said. She nervously rubbed her stomach and the men wondered again if she was suffering from an illness that kept her inside all day.

"If we had arrested someone," Artemus said, "such as a real criminal, instead of a budding drama queen, there would have been a trial. And involving a Senator, the trial would have been in the newspapers."

"Especially one with such a clever plot," Jim added. "But with no arrest, there is no trial, and there is no publicity."

Mrs. Harris nodded, "I am sure my husband will be quite satisfied with this conclusion. He is nervous about going to Washington soon and leaving the ranch. There have been a lot of preparations going on to make sure the work continues in his absence. The foreman has to be very trustworthy and all the workers without reproach. Any scandal at home is reflected badly on work in the Senate."

Jim shot a glance to his partner, "We have also been investigating some of the workers here. One in particular that we were concerned with," he paused, trying to decide how to communicate his concern without upsetting the mother. "What can you tell us about the young man named Roger Lane, Jr.? Zylphia also calls him McKenzie?"

Lucy leaped to her feet and rushed to her mother's knees, "you know, mother," she said eagerly, "the boy who wants to marry Zylphia."

"Oh," Mrs. Harris said, "that young man." Her mouth turned into a hard line. "Yes, he was so pleasant at first to the girls, showing them the area, when we first moved here. It was good for them to meet people their own age. But then Zylphia said he began writing her letters about how they would be married and when she inherited the ranch, they would run it together. She said she explained to him that she did not want to live here and preferred the city. I am afraid the young man doesn't like to take no for an answer and has been pestering her. She told me that she even started telling everyone that she was adopted and could not inherit, just to convince this young man to stop making plans." The two agents exchanged a look at that comment. Mrs. Harris continued to smile but her eyes were worried, "but I am sure it will all blow over as they get older. He is a good hand with the horses and is hired by many local ranches to break the young stallions. And the girls will be going back to school after Christmas this weekend," she added, patting Lucy's head, "and now you will be going with them."

"I am hoping," Jim continued slowly, "to stay here at the ranch to watch over the workers for a few more days. We are gathering more information and tying up some lose ends"

"Of course, Mister West," Mrs. Harris said, looking at both agents, "both of you, please stay as long as you wish. On Christmas Eve we will be having a large party with all the local landowners. You will want to meet them." And she smiled down at the child, "and then everyone will be leaving me. I will feel alone but that's what happens when children grow up to be young adults." She rubbed again onto her stomach as Lucy reached up to hug her around the waist.

Jim and Artie rose, saying their thanks and moving to the door. Lucy blurted out behind them, "and Mr. West is going to keep the wild black horse that McKenzie couldn't break!"

The woman rose slowly to her feet, a worried look in her face. She glanced from Jim's face to his right arm, a plaster cast from elbow to wrist and in a sling. "But that can't be true?" She asked, "That horse is so dangerous that none of the men will attempt to ride it anymore. They've all refused. And you have only one arm?"

Jim grinned, seeing his partner roll his eyes, "well I have never broken a horse before so I thought it would be interesting to try. And it gives me a reason to be around the wranglers, talking with them."

"Well, sir, I wish you luck," Mrs. Harris said.

Later that day, in the corral…

Jim stormed through the gate into the corral, seeing the black horse again tied to the post out in the hot sun. The men, the usual group of five, fell back from him as he raged. "I told you idiots to water and feed this horse! And what are you doing instead? Beating it again? Keeping it from water?"

"But that's how we do it!" One man argued, waving a coiled whip in the air for emphasis, "Especially with a dangerous horse like this one. You have to weaken the animal so it knows who the boss is! You have no idea what you are doing by…" The man's argument was cut short by Jim's left hook. His fist connected with the man's mouth, sending him flying backwards into the dirt. The whip dropped onto the ground, tangling in the other men's boot heels as they scrambled to get away from Jim's fist.

"Out!" Jim snarled, shoving another man backwards and grabbing up the whip. "All of you get out of here and don't come back!" The men moved quickly to the open gate, pushing each other in their haste to leave, as the last man, bleeding from his mouth staggered to his feet. Jim saw the movement and grabbed the man by the shoulder, pushing him towards the opening. "This isn't how this works!" He released the man, only to kick him in the rear end, sending him sprawling into his friends. He threw the whip at them, entangling the men as it uncoiled in the air. "This isn't how any of this works!" He stood, feet wide, left fist on his hip, glaring at each man, daring anyone to say anything back. The men stayed silent and one slowly closed the gate.

Jim turned to the horse, which had quietly stood nearby watching, the dark ears turning occasionally. "Hey, big fella," Jim said, running a hand down the animal's neck. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, talking slowly. "You and I are going to do this a different way. Friends work together; they don't hit each other or starve each other. What do you say to that?" He patted the horse's face and the animal whinnied softly, rubbing its nose against his chest. "You and I are going to be best friends." He pulled a piece of carrot out of his coat pocket and held it out to the horse. The animal sniffed it and took it from his open palm, chewing contentedly as Jim rubbed its nose. "It's just you and me now," he whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Jim stood in the hot sun of the corral facing the black stallion. The horse flicked its ears and blew, nodding its head. "Now," Jim said softly, "you and I are going to do some training today. We have one week to get this figured out so don't make me look like a crazy person." The horse's ears turned toward him again.

"Reasoning with him?" Artie said, from the safety of the corral's fence. He sat on his horse, the added height giving him a clear view of his partner below. "How much training is this going to involve? Starting with what a week is? Or do you think he know's that already?"

Jim replied without looking, "he might; he's a pretty smart horse." Jim held his hands out, one with a folded blanket and one holding straps of brown leather. "All right, big fella, which do you want to learn first? The bridle or the blanket?" The horse sniffed at the leather and snorted, shaking its head and backing up a few steps. "Blanket it is, then," Jim said, dropping the leather to the ground. He shook out the blanket and held it to the horse. "Smell this one? Smells like a horse and you're a horse, so there shouldn't be a problem." The black backed up another step and whinnied nervously. "Ok, fella, how about doing this for a carrot?" Jim pulled a carrot out of the back of his waistband. The horse's ears flickered again and he stepped forward eagerly.

"He is such a push over for a carrot," Artie chuckled, watching how easily his friend worked with the stallion. "How many carrots do you have with you?"

"Lot's," Jim chuckled. As the horse chewed the carrot, Jim slowly laid the blanket over its back. The iridescent skin twitched at the sensation and the horse turned its head to look at him. Jim patted his neck, "good fella, that's not so bad, is it?" The horse twisted its head the opposite way, bit the nearest corner of the blanket, and pulled it off. The blanket dropped to the dirt and the horse stepped forward, planting its front hooves firmly on the cloth. "Oh, well now…" Jim muttered, as his partner laughed nearby. "This may be a long day." He slipped his right arm, in its caste, back into his sling, moving the cloth away from the bandage on his neck. "And having a broken arm and a chunk out of my neck isn't making this easier." He stepped back from the horse and let out a long sigh.

"James, I wish you luck," Artemus said, giving his partner a jaunty salute. "I would stay and watch but I have a message to send. Besides, you may be still working on the same trick by the time I get back." He nodded, his eyes looking worried, "try not to break anything else."

"Ya," Jim grinned up at him, "and you better keep track of those yes and no questions." He stepped further away from the horse and pulled off his shirt, twisting it away from the sling. His deeply tanned skin was bronze in the sunlight. He rubbed the sweat from his chest and walked to the water trough. He clicked his tongue and the horse turned to walk with him. "Well at least we have that figured out," he sighed, moving the pump to send fresh water into the water trough. "You are one step above a pet dog but nowhere near a saddle horse." He stroked the dark flank of the horse as it stood next to him, "not that I want any timid saddle horse, mind you."

In another telegraph office, in another town….

"Is it really my turn?" A skinny young man wearing round, metal rimmed glasses stood another inch taller as the telegraph inspector announced to the office the meaning of his arrival. "I heard you were in the area! We have all heard! I saw Grover's certificate! We all saw it. He framed it and hung it right in the telegraph office and the mayor gave him a raise and put his name over the door! The mayor here said he would do the same for me if I could pass the test!" The inspector held a hand up to stem the wave of enthusiasm but to no avail, "and I said 'Can I pass the test? Well of course I can!' and the mayor said…"

"Enough," the inspector shouted, immediately taking control of the room again. "I don't have all day. Do you want to take the test or should I go on to the next town?"

"No, no, no…" the young man gushed. He turned and snapped up a handful of pencils. "I am ready and have a desk set up outside. Grover said you ran the office while he took the test so I wanted to be ready whenever you arrived and…"

The inspector rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand, almost nocking the fake plaster off his sweating skin. "Please, outside now," he stuttered, again unable to get a word in edgewise. Taking a deep breath and raising his voice, "AND…" he paused, glaring down at the young man, who suddenly fell silent, "…I want to warn you. Grover barely passed because of haste. Take your time, review your answers." The clerk gulped and hugged his pencils, suddenly at a loss for words. He stepped to the door, took the test papers, and walked slowly to a small desk set in the shade beside a feed store down the sidewalk.

Artie shut the office door and fell back against it, "By God," he sighed, "if that boy sends telegrams as fast as he talks, I pity the guy at the other end of the wire." He walked to the telegraph key and pulled out his list of questions to be relayed to Washington.

Back in the corral…..

"Sir, I have known you for a week but have neglected to ask your name," Jim said, as the man from the livery walked closer. He reached out to shake the older man's hand, finally taking the time to study him. The man was small and thin, but not weak looking. He reminded Jim of a dried out strip of old leather; frail looking at first but stronger than expected.

"Winston," the older man said, spitting tobacco juice onto the ground. "I do believe this is the first time in a week I have seen you stand still. I ain't never seen a young man that was running around so much as you do."

Jim laughed, "It has been a busy week." He whistled to the black and then made a clicking sound with his tongue. The horse walked quickly to him and pushed its soft nose against his shoulder. "I've got another busy week ahead but it will be spent right here, or close by anyway."

The man slide his hand down the horse's neck and then down its flank. "I thank you for taking care of this mighty animal. This horse is too good for any of these gentlemen," he said, spitting tobacco juice again into the dust, as if to emphasize what he thought of the men watching nearby. "You have done well to gentle this creature. I do believe if you continue, you will be riding it in a week's time." He stood back to look at the horse's feet and legs. "Do you have any idea of what you intend to do?"

Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Not really. Just move slow, let him get used to me and the equipment. I read a book a few years ago that a fellow in France wrote," he paused, thinking back, "describing how to train a horse by having it watch other trained horses. Since it's a herd animal, it learns from other horses. So I thought I will ride a saddled horse in the corral so it can see what the end game is."

Winston nodded, chewing and spitting, "sounds like a solid plan. Horses are mostly smart, much like people," he nodded. "Do you want any advice?"

Jim nodded, squinting at the man in the sunlight, "I think I need a lot of advice," he grinned.

Winston nodded, studying him, "it's a wise man to listen to advice, whether you decide to take it or not." He walked to the fence to a rack of leather and rope. He took down a long rope and tied one end to a piece of leather. Walking back, he handed the leather to Jim, "You are doing an excellent job getting him to come to you, walking with you, stopping with you. Continue with the words and sounds, as if you were riding him because eventually you will be. Get his trust one hundred percent since he will be your life somewhere out there," he said, looking beyond the walls of the corral in his mind. "The second step is to put the leather on him, with this long rope hooked to it. Then walk him in a circle, farther and farther away from you, so that he can only respond to your voice commands as guidance, not your body. This will get him moving faster, through the gaits, while listening to you." He paused, "then do it with the saddle on. Repeat all these steps and get him used to all the equipment." He spit again in the dirt, and said with a dark voice, "I don't like to see these horses broke with whips and yelling and bronco busting. You end up with a busted horse that's no better than the next busted horse." He looked Jim in the eyes, "I don't think you want a busted horse, I think you want a partner. A friend like the fella you work with. Horses ain't no different than men."

Jim nodded and took the rope. "When should I try this? I don't want to push this too fast but I would really like to ride him out of here in a week or so."

Winston nodded, "keep it with you, over your shoulder, for a while. He can see it and smell it and it will start to smell like you." He chuckled, "in this heat, you both with smell like each other." He stepped back, watching the horse. "I'd try this afternoon or even tomorrow, all depends on how comfortable he is. And don't be giving him any more carrots until the end of the day. He won't work without them if you spoil him and he might get a bellyache." He spit into the dirt. "Work time is work time. Feed and water afterwards." He chuckled and moved to the gate, climbing it. "I will check in with you later." He dropped down the other side and walked between the wranglers, "boys, watch and learn from that Yankee."

The wranglers watched from the top of the corral, a few on the younger men that had not been part of the earlier abuse of the horse. They seemed interested in what was happening and yelled out an occasional bit of encouragement to Jim. Late in the day another wrangler joined them, one that Jim did recognize from being in the group of five that had followed him around over the past week.

The wrangler hollered over the fence, "I hear everybody talking about you breaking this here horse." The younger men around him moved to either side, nervously watching the new arrival. "I don't see much going on."

Jim ignored the taunts and made a few whistles to the horse, as it moved faster on the end of the rope, making a wide circle. As the black passed the men on the fence, the man took off his hat and waved it at the horse's head. The animal shied away but didn't break stride. Jim's steady voice seemed to calm it immediately. "I thank you for giving the horse something to practice; horses shy away from sudden movement and idiots yelling loudly. I knew I could count on one of your crowd to help out today." The younger wranglers snickered behind their neckerchiefs.

"McKenzie said he was going to come here tonight," the man yelled, his face flushed now with anger, "and shoot this crazy horse just like he…" he paused suddenly, looking at the faces nearby.

Jim's eyes flashed to him, the blue eyes darkening in anger, "just like he did with my last horse?" He ground his teeth and tried to lighten his voice, not wanting to upset the animal since it wouldn't understand who or what he was angry with. "You tell McKenzie that I welcome his visit and I will wait here for him." The wrangler suddenly dropped off the corral's fence and moved away. The younger crowd all stood with heads twisting behind them, their gaze all looking down the street. Jim spoke again to the horse, trying to calm his nerves. It would be a long night, he feared.

Darkness…

Artie walked quietly to the corral, the gravel path crunching under his feet as he moved. His two hands were full, one holding a small try with covered dishes and the other carrying a basket with a red and white checkered cloth covering it. A long necked bottle was mostly tucked into an inside coat pocket. He hummed as he walked, soon arriving at the corral's tall walls.

"You in there?" Artie called out softly. The gate creaked open and he stood, facing his partner. "Good thing you didn't come to dinner," he said, looking down the body of his partner. "You are a mess. And you smell like your horse."

"I was told that was a good thing," Jim grinned, looking down at himself. He had pulled on the now off-white shirt on over his shoulders, but left it unbuttoned. Bits of hay and dirt were stuck to his clothing, skin, and hair. He pulled the gate open just enough to let his partner inside. "Thanks for the food. Did you eat already?"

"Did you think I would pass up a chance to sit at an elegant table, with pretty young ladies, and fine food just to eat out in the dirt with you instead?" He crossed the yard toward the water trough, keeping one eye the black horse.

"You could just say 'Yes' or 'No' once in a while," Jim said, as he pushed the gate shut.

Artie ignored him and set the tray down on the corner of the wooden trough and put the basket on the ground. He stood, watching the horse as it contentedly pulled hay from a rack hung on a far wall. "That thing is almost invisible in the dark." He pulled the wine bottle from his coat, pulled the cork out and took along drink.

"I guess we're sharing the wine?" Jim laughed softly, "just not the food?"

"You can have the rest," Artie said, "I was just a bit dry from my walk over here. Dusty out."

"So what's for supper?" Jim sat on the edge of the trough and uncovered the dishes. He found a small bowl of biscuits and a larger bowl of fried chicken. Picking up a chicken leg and taking a bite, he asked, "So how goes it being a telegraph inspector? Did you pass another clerk?"

"That disguise is getting out of hand," Artie said, running his fingers through his dark curls. "Seems Grover, the first young fellow, hung the certificate I made on the wall, got a big raise from his mayor, and then told all the other clerks in the surrounding towns about me. This young fellow today was so excited to see me I thought he would faint before I could calm him down and get him out of the office."

"Look at you, spreading joy," Jim laughed, grabbing another chicken leg. "I hope he passed!"

"With flying colors," Artie said. "I encouraged him to do the test slowly and carefully so I would have more time to myself. Grover almost caught me typing out the questions the other day." He lowered himself carefully to the other end of the wooden trough. "Hand me one of those, would you?"

Jim gave him a sour look and handed him a chicken leg, "You just told me you already ate."

"Yes, but we had Beef Wellington," Artie grimaced. "It was a bit over cooked. These look better. Probably what their cook prepares normally." He munched away as they watched the horse walk closer. "That thing isn't going to bite me, is it?"

"Not sure," Jim teased, winking at him. "I haven't discouraged biting since so many men around here have been harassing him. He kicks the hell out of the walls here too if they yell at him."

Artie froze as the horse walked past him to reach the water. "I won't yell then," he whispered.

"I think I will sleep out here tonight," Jim said. "One of the village idiots was saying how McKenzie is angry that I am training this horse. Seems he wants it for himself or he wants to shoot it," he growled. "He better not try anything. Though I am hoping he shows up eventually. I want to figure out if he has plans for Zyphelia."

"Look in the basket," Artie said, twisting around to watch the horse approach Jim. The animal leaned down to sniff Jim's hair. Then animal leaned closer and licked its long tongue up Jim's neck.

"Stop," Jim said, pushing the big nose away. The horse shook its mane and stood over him, almost protectively. He picked up the basket and pulled the cloth back to see his revolver in its holster, the belt wrapped around it. "Thanks," he grinned, putting it back down. "I was feeling a bit naked out here. And I could use my saddle…"

"You're saddle?" Artie said, surprised. "Didn't I tell about your saddle?" The blue eyes turned on him, "I guess I forgot." He cleared his throat and thought back, "When you were sleeping the other day , suffering from all the wire bites," he said, waving the bare chicken leg at Jim's bandage collection on various locations on his skin, "on the way to the first telegraph office, I stopped at the scene of the disaster. I scrambled down the hill, thinking I could pull the saddle off and cover the horse with branches. But the saddle and bridle were both gone. I did cover the poor animal but I have no idea who has your saddle. It was pretty damaged anyway. The straps were pulled apart and the horn was knocked off. You two must have rolled and slide for a ways."

"All the way to the bottom," Jim grimaced. He took a long drink from the wine bottle and handed it to his partner. He turned and looked back the horse which was standing over him, behind his shoulder. "Hey, fella, want to show off some tricks?" The horse whined and nodded its head. "Ok," he said, climbing to his feet. He turned and walked away, not facing it, and whistled. The horse quickly stepped around the water trough and trotted to his side. "Whoa," he said, and the horse stopped at his right shoulder. He walked around the corral, the horse staying next to him, stopping and starting when he did. "I had him on a rope earlier with a halter over his face. It took some time getting it on him, and another carrot," he grinned, rubbing the animal's nose, "but we did it. Just don't tell Winston on us."

"Winston was helping you," Artie said, "the old man in the horse barn?"

"Yes," Jim said, feeling guilty that his partner knew the man's name already when he hadn't, "he seems to know his horses. He has been telling me a few stories about that McKenzie, I am curious to see what 'Yes' and 'No' answers you get from Washington. I hope they don't mix them up."

"No, it is the answer system the research office uses," Artie said, standing and rubbing his rear end. "They told me what to do and I do it, so it works fine." He yawned and stretched his shoulders. "I hope we get some answers tomorrow. If I send another batch of questions, it will mean a nice certification for another clerk."

"Seems a shame to miss any of them now that two have nice plaques on their walls," Jim teased. "Maybe you should give them all a quick inspection, whether you have a message to send or not."

Artie glared at him, "I suppose I could send a note to my mother from one town and write to your mother from another town," he growled. "Or I could mail the test out to all of them." He paused, suddenly thoughtful. "That's not a bad idea, actually." His voice suddenly sounded like a lecturing teacher, "since the first two clerks passed with such ease, I assume all operators in this area were trained at a higher level than most. Therefore a personal visit will not be required. Please complete and return the enclosed test."

Jim laughed, walking closer with the horse at his heels. "You might as well include the certificate for all of them. I doubt you'll correct the test and give out the results."

"I doubt it too," Artie said, yawning again, "Since I didn't with the first two." Jim laughed again. "Well I will leave you the food, partner. I hope you have a quiet night. I will leave my windows open and listen for your gunshots, just in case."

Jim moaned, leaning his face against the black horse's neck. "I hope we don't have trouble. I wouldn't want anything to happen to this guy." He rubbed a hand down the dark skin as the horse's head twisted to snort at his hair. Jim pushed away and walked his partner to the gate. "Bring me breakfast, would ya," he said, yawning now too. "Or at least coffee." He watched his friend wave to him in answer as he walked back up the dark road. He waited until Artie was on the back porch of the house and then he shoved the gate shut. "It's just you and me, big fella," he said, walking back to the horse. "I sleep lying down but you do what you want, ok?" He patted the animal and walked to the water trough. He worked the arm, spraying out fresh water. Catching some, he rubbed a handful onto his face and through his hair. He laid down on his back, tucking the revolver against his side and wrapping himself in the saddle blanket. Trying to adjust his body to be more comfortable, with his head in the hard dirt, he yawned again. "I will see if I can make this smell better for you." He listened to the horse walk closer and snort. Peeking out of his lashes, he could see the dark animal standing over him. "Good night," he whispered as his eyes closed again, wondering if he was guarding the horse or the horse was guarding him.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12.

The black horse whinnied, its eyes wide with alarm, as it raced by. It tried to pull at the rope attached to the halter but the man holding the other end was firm. The animal whinnied again and tried a new tactic of changing direction but again the man on the rope whistled to him, regaining the horse's attention.

"You're just fine," Jim called out to the horse, as it raced by him again, on its circle inside the corral. Jim waved to Winston as the older man nodded, holding the lead rope in the center of the circle. "I'll be quick."

"Take your time," Winston said, spitting in the dirt, as his hands gripped the rope. His laidback attitude didn't disguise the comfortable skill he had working with the stallion.

Jim pulled the corral gate shut behind him and turned to his partner, who was holding out a large mug of steaming liquid. Jim nodded and took the mug, muttering, "Thanks, this is perfect." He sipped at the hot coffee and sighed tiredly. The horse whinnied again beyond the wooden walls and he turned a worried face toward the sound. "First Winston said I should spend a lot of time with the horse," he growled, "and now he said I should take a break or the horse will develop," he paused, thinking back, "Separation Anxiety." He pronounced the words carefully, looking to his partner as if for an explanation.

"Maybe he worried you were going a little too far with the," Artie paused, looking up and down Jim's body, "with the smell like a horse idea. Maybe he didn't realize you would take him so literally."

Jim grimaced and brushed some hay off his shirt. His pants were covered with dirt and smelled worse. His black boots were a dusty tan. "You're just soft, partner, not used to a real day's work." He grinned, the perfect teeth looking even brighter than usual against the filthy face. "It is making it difficult to speak with Zyphelia though. She doesn't come within ten feet of me now." He tried to run a hand through his hair but his fingers got stuck half-way in something he didn't want to think about. He decided to just smooth his greasy hair flat against his scalp.

"I can imagine," Artie said, his nose wrinkling. "You'll have to get cleaned up outside before you can go inside to get cleaned up." Jim chuckled as he sipped his coffee again and they began walking further down the dirt road. "The tack shop is a few shacks down the goat path," Artie said, pointing ahead. "There were quite a few saddles inside, some appeared complete and ready to use."

"You didn't happen to see my old one, did you?" Jim asked. "It would be helpful to know if someone dropped it off for repairs but I suppose they would just say they found it on a dead, deserted horse." They entered a shop, three sides being open to the air much like the nearby blacksmith's shop. The back wall was covered with hanging racks and hooks, full of leather straps and various equipment. The two agents walked around slowly, looking at the saddles of different sizes and styles. Most were western but there were one or two English styled smaller saddles. "He has some of everything," Jim said into his mug. He walked around a wide hand-hewn beam and almost bumped into a man who was standing, arms crossed over a broad chest, watching them. "Good morning," Jim said, taking a step back from the man. He seemed as square and solid as the wooden post he was standing behind.

"Good morning," a deep voice rumbled. He continued to stare.

"I am looking for a new saddle," Jim said, "something…"

"Style won't matter to you, Yank," the man said, interrupting, "your ass won't be in it long enough to get uncomfortable!" He burst out with a loud bark of laughter as Jim stared at him. "I won't even bother to sell you a saddle, since you won't be needing it long," he said, laughing even harder now. He slapped Jim on the shoulder, knocking the smaller man a step sideways, sloshing coffee onto the wooden floor. "Do you really need one for that black already? I heard you were doing wonders with that horse but it's only been a few days." He turned and walked to the back of the shop, talking more to himself now, as Jim turned to look at his partner. Artie just shrugged with a mild look of amusement on his face.

"Maybe something lightweight," Artie said, mocking his more serious friend, "so that it won't hurt when it flies off the horse and hits you in the head." He gave Jim a gentle shove, moving him forward as he continued, "something with a soft seat and extra strong straps." Jim just shook his head in silence, drinking the last dregs of his coffee that hadn't spilled from the mug.

"Here is what you need," the man hollered to them from across the room. Jim stepped closer, moving around barrels of metal hooks and rings. "This is a good, solid saddle. It should be wide enough for that horse and plenty comfortable." He clapped Jim on the shoulder, a wide hand squeezing, and leaned closer to look him in the eyes. "We have all been watching you and have seen how you treat that animal. It's very impressive work, young man. You are very dedicated to the task and show much patience."

"Thank you," Jim said, returning the man's steady gaze. "I appreciate that."

"You know McKenzie has been saying he won't let you leave with it though," the man said quietly, releasing Jim and stepping back. "Word is he is supposed to be coming back this weekend to take Zyphelia and that horse, or shoot it if he can't have it."

Jim shot a quick glance back at his partner, and then looked back at the man, "would McKenzie shoot Zylphelia if he couldn't have her?" The man sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Let me know if you hear anything specific, would you? We are going to stay around until the girls head back to New York after Christmas. I don't believe he would follow her north."

"You're good men to help her," he said, nodding now toward Artemus, "we thought you two were just here on official Washington business with the Senator but you seem to stick your Yankee noses into everything." He smiled and smacked Jim again, "and, in this case, we are all grateful." He hoisted the saddle onto one shoulder and charged across his shop, knocking items onto the floor as he moved. "Not that the men here haven't tried to talk to McKenzie but that boy is a spoiled young man. If he had been mine, I would have whipped his…" he dropped the saddle on a rack by the front desk and looked at Jim with a twinkle in his eye, "so when are you going to slap this saddle on that stallion and climb on board, eh?"

Jim grinned, knowing everyone was talking about when he would try to ride the horse. The lessons over the past week had included the halter and long rope, the saddle blanket and bridle, and voice controls. He was running out of equipment to introduce to the horse. The only thing left was the saddle. "I am hoping to have the horse run with the saddle on today and tomorrow," he paused, taking a deep breath, "tomorrow I will ride him. We have to come to an agreement eventually." He grinned as the big man winked at him.

"Do or die," the man barked, laughing again. Then man noticed Artemus looking beyond him, behind another workbench. "I see you spotted that piece of art," he said, proudly puffing out his chest. "It's a work in progress. Would you like to see it closer?"

Jim leaned over to see what his partner's sharp eyes had spotted. The man nodded to them and they walked around the workbench and piles of supplies to move deeper into the building. On a saddle rack was an ebony black saddle partially built. It was trimmed with silver conchos which were polished to a bright shine when they caught the sunlight. The man drew his hand over the smooth leather.

Jim walked around the saddle, his eyes moving from the conchos to the tooled leather skirt. He reached out to touch a concho, tilting it into the morning sun. "You made all this?" he asked quietly.

The man reached behind him to take a bridle off a wall hook behind him. "Look at this," he said, handing it to Jim. The agent took it carefully. "I made that first," the man said, pointing to different parts of the item, "the silver is hammered thin so the look is there but not the weight." He ran his hand over the saddle again, "I have polished the leather to a smooth shine too."

"It is more like a piece of art than a working saddle," Artemus said.

"But it's stronger than my best saddle," the man barked, "and I have added hooks and straps so that it will be useful for whatever you need to do with it."

"Is this for sale," Jim asked slowly, wondering how much something like this would cost.

The man sighed, "No, this one is for the Senator," he muttered, an edge coming to his voice. "And he probably will only use it in a parade while waving to his admirers. That man has many weaknesses; cards, gambling, money, fame," he snapped irritably. "It's fancy, yes, its art, yes," he gushed, waving his arms to his side, "but a saddle like this should be for a working man." His arms dropped, as he sighed and turned away, walking back to the front of the store.

"It's a bit gaudy," Artie smiled at his partner, "don't you think?"

Jim smiled, running a finger over the silver conchos on the bridle. "I like it," he said softly, "it would like impressive on a black horse. Maybe he'd make a second one." He hung the leather back on the wall hook and walked to join the storekeeper. "Excuse me, sir," he said, "but would you consider making a second one for sale?"

"It would cost a mighty dollar, young man," he smiled, "a mighty dollar. But I will think about it, for you." He picked up the plainer brown saddle and shoved it into Jim's chest. Artie jumped forward to grab the coffee mug from Jim's fingers as he grasped the heavy saddle awkwardly, his right arm still in the sling. "But it would be better for a hard working fellow to own, I tell you that! Good luck to you today. I will be stopping down tomorrow to see how long your ass stays into this saddle."

Jim hefted the saddle onto his shoulder and walked carefully out of the shop. Outside, Artie walked next to him. "So the Senator has weaknesses? What did he say," Artie muttered, "cards and gambling?"

"Money and fame?" Jim finished. "Well a Senator often will have all those traits. I hope he enjoys it. Sometimes it isn't what they expect once they get to Washington. And I don't think that recluse of a wife will enjoy it."

"She can sit in a fancy upstairs boudoir there as well as she does here," Artie said. "But at least the people here are speaking to you now that you are working with them. It was an excellent idea, Yankee." Jim grinned and nodded in agreement. As they approached the corral, the horse could still be heard protesting to Winston. "You're new friend still misses you."

"You're just jealous," Jim winked. He stood back as Artie pulled the gate open. Jim walked in and whistled to the horse. The black reared up at the sound, kicking out at the rope. Catching it in a foreleg, he yanked it from Winston's grasp and galloped to Jim, sliding to a stop at his chest. "Whoa, big fella," Jim laughed. "I guess you did miss me." The horse rubbed its soft nose against his hair, sniffing at him. "I brought something new." He turned and let the horse sniff at the leather. The animal stepped back and blew, shaking its head. "That's what you said about the blanket and bridle but you got used to them."

Artie stepped through the gate, saying, "I guess you'll have to sleep with it like you did the …" he backed up a step suddenly as the horse whinnied, its ears back, and stepped toward him. "Hey," Artie exclaimed, moving toward the gate.

"Whoa, big fella," Jim said again, stepping in front of the horse's chest with his shoulder. He rubbed his face against the animal's neck, since his hands were full of leather. The animal calmed and stepped back again, he turned to look at his partner, "I think you surprised him, buddy."

"I guess I did,' Artie said, stepping backwards slowly through the gate. The black horse hissed, the ears going back again. "I'll watch from outside, Jim, before that beast eats me. Besides I have some ideas to run down." He pulled the gate shut and stepped onto a cross beam, looking down now on his friend from behind the wooden wall.

"All right, fella," Jim said, walking back into the corral's center. He clicked his tongue, thinking after that he didn't need to anymore since the horse seemed happy to walk with him now. He approached Winston, "sorry he reared up at you. I didn't know he would do that but it makes me think it's a good way to get him back from someone who might try to steal him."

"As long as he is under your control," Winston said, spitting the black tobacco juice into the dust. "He wasn't happy with you being gone. I have never seen a horse become so attached to a man so quickly and so completely. It must be from the abuse he had here from the other men. He may only trust you from now on."

Jim turned to smile at the horse, "He'll have to get used to my partner. But, otherwise, that's a good thing considering where we go; from crowded city to empty desert. I need him to stick around if we get separated." Jim, nodding to the blanket on the horse's back, "did he pull that off yet?" Winston shook his head no, "good. Well last trick to learn," he said. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his arm from the sling. Gingerly grabbing the back of the saddle with his lame hand, he moved to the side of the horse and gently put the saddle on the blanket. The straps and stirrups hung down, bumping the animal's flank. Feeling the change in weight, and touch of leather, the horse shifted his feet and twisted his head to look at Jim. "You're ok, big fella, just another trick to learn." Jim patted the smooth dark flank and began tightening straps. The horse shifted his feet again and blew nervously. Speaking softly and moving slowly, Jim soon had the straps of the saddle attached. "Good boy," he said, moving to the horse's head to pat its nose. "Let's just go for a walk and get used to that for a while."

"That horse trusts you now, young man," Winston said, nodding his approval, as Jim and the horse walked past him, "admirable job."

Jim walked the inner edge of the corral wall, noticing how many more men had climbed up to watch him. "Artie, you should be selling tickets," he said softly, passing his partner's perch.

"Oh, don't worry," Artie winked, "I will make an extra week's pay on the wagers." Jim scowled at him as he passed by and the horse blew, as if in agreement. "See ya this evening." He laughed and dropped out of sight beyond the wall.

Jim ran a hand down the horse's neck as they walked, speaking softly, "You'll get use to him, fella," he whispered. "He's crazy but I couldn't live without him." The horse whinnied softly and tossed its head.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Artemus turned from the wall and began walking up the dirt road toward the house. His eyes caught movement and he saw, in the distance, Elizabeth hurrying down the lawn, her pale yellow dress catching the sunlight as she moved. Her right hand was clutched to her chest as her left waved. Artemus moved toward the young woman, wondering what she was in such a hurry for. As she approached, he could see her flushed face, and the few moments of relaxation with Jim dissolved into concern for the girl, reminding him that they were at the Senator's home on official business.

"Elizabeth," he said softly, holding out his hand toward her, "what is it? Why are you so upset?"

"Upset?" The girl said, "Oh, I'm not upset," she smiled, stepping closer to him and taking his hand in her's, also speaking in a whisper. "I have been searching for you all morning. I thought you might be here, with your friend," she said, her blue eyes darting toward the wranglers as the group let out a loud roar. "I didn't want to approach those men, though."

"No, you shouldn't," Artemus said, gently taking a delicate elbow and moving her back toward the house. "You don't move around this back area alone, do you?"

"No, I stay near the house and the carriage barn," she said, "Though I have ridden in the carriage with mother, when we first arrived." She paused, smiling, looking up at the agent, "I have something to show you. Do you have time to walk in the garden with me?"

Artemus chuckled, "of course," he said wondering what she was up to. Her face was flushed with excitement and one hand was still clutched to her dress. As they entered the arched gate, covered with roses, he said, "How is your sister Lucy doing? She must be excited to be leaving with you?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said, "and Zylphia is very angry. She doesn't want a kid sister hanging around us. But we will get her settled at her school and then we will go on to ours." They paused underneath a tree, the branches hanging down around them shielding them from others passing by beyond the garden. "Zyphelia seems anxious to leave here too. I don't think she will come back ever again."

"Is she afraid of that fellow McKenzie?" Artemus asked quietly. The girl nodded. "If she stays in the house or close by, like you do," he said, "there is no way he can touch her. Jim has been working with the wranglers this week trying to get information about what he might be planning. There is talk that he will come here Christmas Eve during the party."

"His father will be here; he is always invited," she said, "as are all the landowners nearby. Will James come to the party? I think Zyphelia would be more apt to stay by him. Of course he will need to take a bath. Maybe even two," she giggled.

"James will be there and she should stay with him," Artemus agreed, nodding. "He plans on working with the horse until tomorrow night and be cleaned up by dinner time."

"I hope he doesn't get injured trying to ride that stallion," She said, "he seems to be bleeding or breaking something so often. I suppose he must be a fast healer," she chuckled as Artie rolled his eyes. "But I need to give you this telegram. It's addressed to James West but you seemed to have the last one."

"Thank you," Artemus said, taking the telegram that had been hidden in her clutched hand. He opened it and quickly scanned the message.

"Is it in code again?" The girl peeked over the edge of the paper, trying to read it.

"Yes, another secret code," Artemus said, showing it to her. "I will transcribe it later." He folded it and tucked it into an inside vest pocket.

"Oh, that is just so exciting," Elizabeth said, breathing heavily. "I wonder if," she paused, her lips parted and her eyes turned up to his, "would the Secret Service hire women as agents someday."

"Women as agents?" Artemus said, his voice rising in surprise, "I don't see how a woman would pass the physical tests and other educational requirements. It's very vigorous training." He wrapped an arm slowly around her slender waist and pulled her closer. "Though women have been successful spies for many years. There is just no way to know what they are thinking."

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck and moved closer, whispering, "You should be able to guess what I'm thinking."

Evening …..

"You plan on leaving in two days?" Winston asked James, his eyebrows moving up into his receding hair line. "And, I suppose, you intend on riding this horse?" He nodded toward the black. "You could ride another horse and bring this one with you…" his voice paused as Jim's face broke into a smile. "You are a stubborn and brave man."

"It's been going well so far," Jim said, rubbing his hand down the horse's neck. The dark skin was warm on his palm as the later afternoon sun was sending its rays slanting over the corral's fence. "And I think we can come to an agreement. He seems like a fast learner and very observant. I think he won't mind me sitting in that saddle tomorrow and we will spend the day riding around the corral and hopefully outside of it."

"Well I would have suggested you practice a little more. " Winston said, spitting into the dirt. "But as long as you are heading for home, he should be fine. Just make sure he stays in a quiet area without many people or other distractions until he has more training."

Jim took a deep breath, "actually I was heading to New Orleans after I leave here."

Winston's jaw stopped chewing as he stared at Jim. "New Orleans?" His low voice growled and he leaned over to spit again. Letting out a long sigh, he continued quietly, his voice barely a whisper, "now that does sound foolish, young man. I am about to lose my respect for you." Jim opened his mouth to protest but Winston continued, a hard edge to his voice, "you have done a wonderful job and, if you continue, you will have an intelligent and faithful companion for many years. However if you bring this animal into a city, at this point, he will spook and either run away or lash out. The authorities will shoot a horse in a city if they believe it is a danger to the public."

Jim nodded, looking over his shoulder at the horse. "Yes, I don't want that."

"Of course, there is one idea," Winston said slowly, thinking. "We are in Vacherie and you are going to New Orleans. There is a place you could bring him." Winston knelt and, picking up a stick, began drawing a map in the dirt. Jim knelt next to him, knowing everything this man said became important in regards to training the stallion. Winston drew lines and circles in the dirt. "Here we are, in Vacherie." He spit, marking the spot with tobacco juice. "And you will travel down this main road; it's a straight shot to New Orleans," spitting again, marking the city's location. "In between, a bit north of that hell hole you want to visit," he growled, making an X in the sand, "is a town called Iberville. Good people there."

"So I should go there first and leave the horse with someone you know?" James grinned at the older man.

Winston stood, dropping the stick and stretching his back, nodding. "An old friend of mine is the head of a horse ranch there. He's always loved a challenge. I will write you a note for you to give him explaining what the horse needs. The horse can be exercised with others, continue the training, while you enjoy the city life for a bit." He rapped Jim on the chest with his knuckles, "I guess you deserve a little skirt chasing after the long days you've done here."

Jim smiled, winking, "I haven't ever had to chase any girl very far. " Winston snorted, almost choking on his tobacco chew. "In fact, I hope to sit in a saloon with a bottle of whiskey and let them come to me." The horse whinnied behind him. Turning, "and you can go to class with other horses and learn how to behave." He patted the soft muffle as the animal blew at him. "No city life for you yet."

Next morning…..

Jim stood in the dirt with the black stallion, looking up at all the faces looking down at him. Men sat along the top of the corral's wooden wall. Some yelled encouragement down at him while others jeered and shook fists in anger. Word had spread throughout the area that the Yankee was going to attempt to ride the black stallion that McKenzie, the locally known best wrangler, could not.

Jim turned, his eyes searching the faces, until he found his partner. The brown eyes were twinkling with excitement. He was close to the fence, watching, but then turned away to lean toward another man, grabbing something from the wrangler's hand. Straightening, he wrote in a notebook, a stump of a pencil scratching. Jim scowled at him, when their eyes met again. Betting, Jim thought, great, that's what I need; more pressure and anger.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to the horse and slipped his sore right arm out of the sling. "Well, today is the day. Ready to learn one more trick?" The horse whinnied and nodded its head. Its dark eyes turned to the men along the wall as they yelled and waved their hats. He patted the soft nose, calming it. Speaking softly again, he said, "we are going to go slow and try not to get excited or crazy like a crazy bucking bronco." His slow deep voice continued as he slipped the bridle on the horse's head. Patting its side, he moved to put the blanket on the horse. As he turned to grab the saddle from a nearby wooden rack, a stone flew past Jim's head to hit the side of the horse. The animal spun in alarm and he dropped the saddle back down and quickly patted its side.

"You're ok," he said, glaring behind his back at the group of men along the fence. Two men had grabbed a third, between them, and were yelling and shaking the man, threatening him. "You do that again," Jim growled, just loud enough for the men to hear, "and I'll kill you." The man paled and dropped down behind the wall, obviously deciding not to watch further.

"All right," Jim said, picking up the saddle again, "ignore those idiots. We have our own problems, don't we?" He placed the saddle on the horse and tightened the straps, talking as he worked. Men along the wall quieted with anticipation.

Jim paused at the side of the horse as the animal twisted its head to look at him. "Ok, it's just another trick to learn. Let's just stay calm." He grasped the horn with his left hand, put his boot toe into the stirrup, and pulled himself into the saddle. He threw his right foot over the horse's rump and put the boot in the stirrup. He gingerly picked up the reins and held his breath. The stallion stood completely still, only twisting its ears and moving its eyes as the men on the wall yelled out. Soon a hush fell over the crowd as the men realized that the horse was not moving.

Jim looked over at Artie, winking. "See, just another trick to learn." Artie's eyebrows had climbed into his hairline as his pencil paused over his notepad. Jim chuckled, knowing his partner had not accepted bets for Jim to not be thrown from the saddle. He had laughed at Jim's suggestion, saying 'it's not if your thrown off, it's how many times'". Jim leaned over to pat the horse's neck, "good fella, it's not that bad after all." Sitting up again, he clicked his tongue, making the sound he had used all week for movement. The horse continued to stand still. He clicked again, nudging his boot heels into the horse's side. "Come on, forward," he said, encouragely.

The men burst into laughter again, seeing the horse ignoring his new master and seeing Jim's annoyance. Even Artie was beginning to smile and whisper to the man next to him, obviously enjoying his partner's frustration.

Jim sighed, thinking back to other communication skills they had worked on. "Forward," he said, and clicked his tongue again. The horse simply turned its head to look back at him. He patted its side and nudged again with his heels, slightly harder this time. The horse took a few steps forward and he breathed a sigh of relief. Another step forward was followed by a sudden drop in the animal's head and front legs as the back arched and lifted. Jim tumbled, almost in slow motion, down the animal's neck, to slam on his back into the dirt.

"Ugh," he moaned, the wind knocked out of his lungs and pain shooting from the back of his head to his butt. He lay still, listening to the buzz of men's voices from somewhere above him as the crowd roared in amusement at his first significant failure of the week.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Jim stood with his forehead resting against the stallion's face as he tried to decide what to do next. He could feel the sun beating down on his bare shoulders, feel the itch of sweat drizzle down the back of his neck, but his arms ached so bad he couldn't lift them to scratch. 'What am I doing wrong,' he thought, his brain as tired as his body. He leaned back from the horse with a long sigh. The animal blinked at him and nuzzled his face. "Ok," he whispered, "we need to try something different. We need to discuss options and come to some sort of agreement." The horse whinnied and nodded its head, waiting patiently in front of him. The black tail flickered at flies that buzzed around both of them.

"Hey, Yank," one of the loud voices of the wranglers yelled down at him, "You better climb back in that saddle. I won't win the pot until you sail off two more times!" The crowd roared with laughter as Jim stared at the horse, trying to ignore the gallery of idiots around him.

"Don't hurry him," another voice yelled. "He's trying to tell the horse who's the Boss man!"

"I think the horse already told him," a third vice yelled out, the very familiar voice of his partner.

Jim stole a look up at the top of the fence, catching his partner's eye. Artie was grinning with all the other men. Jim sighed again, trying to refocus. He walked stiffly to the horse's side to check the saddle. "That last ride had lasted a few seconds longer than the first few," he said, pausing as the horse snickered as if in answer, "maybe you're getting tired?" The horse shook its head and shifted its feet. He straightened the saddle that had twisted as he had tried to keep his seat before taking flight again. He stepped back and stretched his shoulders, thinking he had forgotten something. He looked up again and saw Winston watching him, quietly chewing his tobacco. He was tempted to ask for advice but he knew at this point it was between him and the horse.

"All right," he said, stepping back to the stallion's face. He looked the horse in the eye and said, "I can't make you do this. We have to decide together. You should know by now what I need you to do…" he paused, as it occurred to him that the horse probably had no idea what was expected of it. Thinking back to the book on horse training, he remembered one more bit of advice. Turning to the wall, he hollered up, "hey, Artemus ride in here on a horse, will you?"

Artie froze in surprise for a split second, then simply nodded and dropped out of sight behind the wall. Jim turned back to the stallion. "I should have thought of this sooner. Like hours ago," he grinned, his hand absently rubbing his sore, filthy butt.

"Let me guess," Artie said, as he rode into the corral on a grey mare. "You want to show that crazy animal how a saddle-trained horse should act." Jim nodded and stepped to the stallion's side, rubbing its neck. "I don't mind helping but he better not bite me."

"He won't bite," Jim laughed. "Come on," he said, walking toward Artie. The black stepped with him, keeping its head even with his. "See the saddle?" Jim tugged on a strap behind Artie's knee, looking back at the horse. "And see the reins?" He walked forward and pulled on the reins. His partner reached out to pat the black horse but it shied away from him. "He'll get used to you," Jim said, "and he didn't even try to bite you this time."

"Yes, it's been a whole day since he took a good swipe at me," Artie growled. "Maybe he's just tired. You've both had a long day."

"We'll get there," Jim sighed, walking to the grey's head. He tugged on the bridle, "see, this horse doesn't mind. It's not really that bad?" The black shook its head, blowing at him. "Should we try it once more while this horse is here to inspire you?" The black nodded and nuzzled his face again. "I'll take that as a yes," Jim said. He winked at Artie and moved to the saddle. Grabbing the horn, he stepped into the stirrup and swung up to sit on the saddle. "We have the sitting part learned; it's the moving forward part that seems upsetting to him."

"Maybe he sees it as two separate tricks and only wants to learn one per day," Artie said, backing the grey up a few steps. The crowd cheered and booed behind them as Jim clicked his tongue and nudged his boot heels into the horse's flank. Artie repeated the gestures and started to walk the grey forward as the black watched. When the grey was a few yards away, moving across the corral, the black suddenly started walking quickly toward it. Jim held the reins and tried to relax, curious as to what was happening. The black walked even with the grey and then increased its pace to stay slightly in front of it as they walked side by side. "That's an improvement," Jim said, "too bad I didn't think of this earlier."

"I am just glad it's working," Artie chuckled, "I can't pay out all the winnings to everyone who bet you couldn't ride that horse today!" Jim's blue eyes glared angrily at him as he continued. "I think you have one of those horses, James, that won't allow another horse to be in front of it. Let me turn to the right and see what he does." Artie pulled the reins gently and the grey turned and began walking in another direction. The black quickly moved also as Jim pulled the reins.

"I think it's just following your horse instead of what I'm doing," Jim said, "you're right, though, he definitely wants to be first." The black slowed its pace as he moved a few steps ahead of the grey. They walked the horses around the corral as the group of wrangles quieted. The show appeared to be over for now. A few heads began disappearing as the crowd dissipated.

"Let me stop and see if you can walk him alone," Artie suggested, pulling the reins to stop his horse. The grey stood quietly, flicking its tail. The black walked a few more steps and stopped, turning its head to look at the other horse.

"Come on, big fella," Jim said, clicking his tongue. "Let's go, just you and me now." The horse stood still, tossing its head and blowing. Jim nudged his boot heels into the animal's flank and it immediately dropped its head and bucked. With only one good arm, Jim was unable to stay in the saddle. He tucked his right arm against his chest as he felt himself falling. He tumbled over the horse's neck onto the dirt, the reins still clutched in his left hand.

The crowd of remaining men roared with laughter as they called out the usual comments. "Thought you had him all trained, Yank," one man yelled and another one, more angry, shook his fist, "that was one too many falls! You cost me money!"

"If he can't ride it by tomorrow night, I win the pot!" Another man yelled.

"That ain't no riding horse, Yank," a third man joined in, "that's a Tennessee walking horse."

Jim lay on the ground in the dirt with his eyes shut trying to ignore the taunts and the sharp pain shooting down his back. "That hurt," he said quietly.

"It's almost like you weren't expecting it, too," Artie chuckled, looking down at him from his horse. "You know if you break your other arm, you won't be able to …"

"I'm not going to break my other arm," Jim growled, "my back might be broken though." He winced as he felt a tongue lap his sweating face and he opened his eyes to see the big black nose just above his. "Oh, sure, now you want to be friends again. Friends don't throw each other into the dirt." He slowly rose to a sitting position and squinted up at the horse. "This isn't working. I only have one arm. I can't play the bucking bronco game with you. We need to figure this out tonight or tomorrow morning. Tomorrow by 5 pm I have to be able to ride you in a straight line. It's all I am asking; nothing fancy. Do you understand?" The horse blew at him and stepped back, head hanging low. Jim looked up at his partner, "I think he actually looks sorry!"

"I think it's a trick," Artie said, "I think he is plotting his next move." He backed up the grey horse and turned it toward the gate. "Well, James, my boy, this has been fun but I have a dinner date. Catch you later tonight." He moved the grey forward a few steps, over his shoulder he called out, "And try to keep an accurate count of your falls so I can pay the correct winner. We wouldn't want any sore losers."

Jim climbed to his feet and stood, swaying, as his head spun. "Ya, I will cut a mark in the saddle every time I have to climb back on it. Not paying out your betting correctly is my biggest worry." Artie waved over his shoulder and the gate opened and shut behind him again. The black horse walked closer to nuzzle Jim's hair again. He turned to rub its nose. "Friends again?"

Later that night….

Artie sat at one side of a small round table in the semidarkness of the Senator's office. The gas lights in numerous wall sconces flickered and reflected off of the leather furniture and glass doors covering the book shelves. Artie stole a glance through cigar smoke, as it hung lazily in the air, at the Senator who sat across from him. The older man squinted at his playing cards, oblivious to the observation. On either side of Artemus sat two other men, both wealthy ranch owners.

"So, Gordon," the man to Artie's right barked, "how can a man walk around telling everyone he's a secret agent and giving his real name? That just doesn't sound secret to me."

Artemus smiled politely, having heard this question numerous times since starting the Federal job. "I don't always let everyone know who I am. It depends on what I'm doing. For instance, if I were investigating you all for racketeering, I would introduce myself as a card shark and take your money while asking you questions at the same time. Losing at cards tends to upset people, makes them nervous, and they start talking. I could solve my case and you would just think you had lost your family's estate to a regular guy." The man paused, unsure of how to answer it, and nervously looked from his cards to the Senator's. "Of course," Artemus continued smoothly, "that would only be if I was investigating you all." The man reached up to loosen his tie as the man across from him looked up angrily from his own hand.

"What's all this talk," the fourth man said, "are we playing cards or aren't we?" He glared at the Senator who finally pulled two cards from his hand and placed them on the table. "Here," the man snapped, dealing two new cards. "And don't be distracting us with your talk, mister, I know all about your Washington tricks."

"I am actually from New York city," Artemus smiled, "I only work in Washington. And I am standing pat, thank you." The dealer grumbled something about New Yorkers and tossed two more cards to the other player to finish the round.

The Senator peered at Artemus over his cards. "You're partner seems to have disappeared this week, working with those ruffians in the back instead of here with me." His tone had a hard edge to it. "I was told two agents would be working together here."

"We are working together," Artemus said, "separately." He tossed a coin onto the pile of coins and cash in the middle of the table. "And we are both working tonight, I can assure you." He enjoyed the exchange of anxious looks by the three opponents as the game continued.

Midnight, in the darkness behind the corral….

"Come on, Winston," a man yelled, "you can beat him!"

"No Yankee ever beat a Texan!" another voice called out anxiously.

A man leaned close to the opponents, "you got him, Winston, just a little more!"

The two hands, locked together, elbows braced to a wooden table top, wavered back and forth in the dim light. The two men, equal in strength, labored hard against each other. One hand would bend forward and the other hand would rise again, neither gaining an edge.

"Winston," Jim's voice croaked, "We should call it even before I break my other arm."

"You yield then?" Winston's voice was a strained whisper.

"No," Jim said, grinding his teeth together. With a grunt, he suddenly slammed his opponent's hand to the table top with a bang and collapsed back onto his chair. "Christ…"

The men, crowding close, began yelling and exchanging money. Jim's eyes narrowed in irritation, "I am so glad to be the source of so much commerce this week. People have made a lot of money off me." He dropped his left arm to his side and slowly flexed the muscles, turning his wrist and grimacing.

"That was a lot tougher than I thought it would be," Winston said, grinning and taking a long drink from a long, dark colored bottle. He handed the bottle to Jim, who took grabbed it with a grateful nod. "I ain't never did arm wrestling with my left hand before. You must be as strong left handed as you are with the right."

Jim took a long drink and smiled, the perfect teeth flashing white in the darkness. "I think you let me win at the end, didn't you?"

Winston reached out and took the bottle back, "let's you and me take this bottle for a walk. I am tired of these men yelling about money around my ears. I have heard it all day." He glared at the wranglers who suddenly melted back into the shadows.

"Good idea," Jim said, "I know what you mean. I wouldn't be surprised if my friend wins money off this match tonight."

"I hear he is playing cards with the Senator and some friends." Winston said. "I hope he doesn't win too much. Those fellas can get mean when they lose to a stranger."

"You mean to a Yankee?" Jim grinned, enjoying the older man's company. "Let's take a walk out to the horse; make sure he is settled for the night. I need to think of a name for him too."

"You think it will help you ride him if you give him a pet name?" Winston took another swig and handed the bottle back to Jim. They stepped out of the large equipment shed and into the moonlight. "There will be a full moon tomorrow night."

"Wonderful," Jim sighed sarcastically, as they walked back to the wooden fence. They stepped onto cross beams to boost up and look over the top. "That's all I need. The night will be crazy enough, though the light may prove useful." He watched the black horse run in the corral, the black mane flowing and the moonlight making the horse's black flanks look almost midnight blue. "What to name him…"


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15.

Early next morning….

"Good morning, Artemus," Winston said, squinting into the early morning rays of the sun as it climbed through the trees. "Going for a ride?"

"Yes," Artemus said, nodding a greeting to the older man as he stood in the doorway of the livery. "I need to stop into town this morning." He paused, his eyebrows together as he squinted into the darker room, "You haven't seen Jim this morning, have you? I stopped at the corral and the black wasn't there and neither is he." Artie's smile didn't hide the worry in his voice. "I am sure everyone would have seen or heard something if the horse had escaped or someone had taken it. I just wanted to speak to him before I left for the day and make sure everything was all right."

Winston walked forward toward him, leading the saddled horse that he had been using all week. The older man spit into the dirt, and winked. "Your friend is behind you, why don't you ask him yourself."

Artemus spun in the doorway and stood, mouth hanging open, unable to speak or move. He watched as Jim rode the black horse slowly down the dirt road from the back area of craft shops. The animal walked slowly, calmly moving between the trees, as it passed between shadows and sunlight. Jim's bright smile shone in contrast to his dirt smeared face, as he approached his partner. He gently pulled the reins with his left hand, his right relaxing again in the black sling, to maneuver the horse toward the edge of the road.

"Good morning, Artemus," Jim said, obviously excited to see his friend, "Nice of you to finally come outside and see how I'm doing?"

"Well, James," Artie gushed, "you seem to be doing just fine. I can't believe what I am seeing! How did you manage this sudden and complete change of heart?"

Jim leaned over to pat the animal's neck. "I put the saddle on him early this morning in the corral, before the crowd of cheering fans arrived, and mounted without any issues. He seems to understand everything I say now." Sighing with obvious relief and exhaustion, Jim sat up straight again and looked toward Winston, "He just decided it was all right and seems to enjoy walking around now."

"Maybe he just had to sleep on it," Artie chuckled, looking back at Winston. The man slowly nodded, his sharp eyes studying the horse and rider. He slowly walked past Artemus to approach the Jim.

"Who gave you that saddle," he drawled, his chewing stopped as he ran a hand around the edge of the leather where it touched the horse's back. "It's not the right size."

"Really?" Jim said, twisting to look behind him to watch what Winston was doing. "It was the fellow at the tack shop down the street. He helped me put it on."

"It's too narrow," Winston said, stepping back. "Let's ride down with you. I want to watch the horse walk, now that it's stopped jumping around like a grasshopper," he growled, walking back in to the livery.

Artie climbed onto the saddle of his horse and walked it to Jim's black. "Think of a name yet?"

Jim shook his head, smiling, "something will come to me though it may not matter anyway since he comes running when I whistle to him. Don't ya, boy," he said, stroking the animal's neck. It whinnied and tossed its head, stepping sideways impatiently. "He doesn't like to stand still."

"Obviously," Artie said, amused at the horse's antics, as the animal started to paw at the ground. "Maybe you could call him grasshopper or bunny?" Jim shook his head in disagreement. "Or a man's name like Duke?" Again, Jim shook his head. Artie rolled his eyes, giving up.

Winston rode to them and nodded for Jim to ride ahead. Artie watched nervously as Jim gently nudged his heels into the horse's flanks but the animal calmly began walking forward as if it always had. "He seems to have gotten the hang of it. I tell you, James, that horse only wants to learn one new trick per day. He can't be rushed."

Jim smiled again, enjoying every moment. Many people stopped on the side of the narrow road to watch him walk by. He heard voices murmur behind him, watched amazed faces and fingers pointing at him. The horse didn't seem to mind the voices now or the motion of people after all the yelling in the corral the day before. As they approached the tack shop, the big man came out to watch him. Jim stopped in front of the shop but didn't dismount, instead pausing as Winston walked to his side.

"Too narrow," Winston drawled, running his hand under the edge of the saddle. The big man walked over, took one look at the saddle, and silently nodded. He and Winston disappeared inside the shop as James remained on the horse.

"Men of few words," Artemus said, chuckling. "They would not do well in the theater."

"They could play statues," Jim said. "Or mutes."

"Not much call for those parts in a play," Artemus said, pulling out his watch. "Well, James, my boy, I am off to yet another town. This should be the last one."

"We leave in the morning," Jim said, "if everything goes all right tonight. Will you get your answers in time? And what are you asking this time? Or about who?"

"Whom," Artemus correctly, snapping his watch shut, "and aren't you all full of questions this morning. Maybe I just want to make a personal visit to the last telegraph clerk. Wouldn't you feel bad if everyone else in the area had a signed certificate but one last guy?" Jim gave him a crooked grin, "besides I am curious person and I like to learn about the human character."

"Sure you do," Jim sighed, knowing his new partner wouldn't give him details until he was ready. "Or maybe you are lining up some female companions for us in New Orleans?"

"Please," Artie huffed, pulling his horse back, away from Jim's. "Now I have to arrange for your dates? If I arrange for female companions, I won't be sharing." He winked at Jim and spurred his horse up the road. Jim laughed as he watched his friend disappear past the Senator's house.

Later that afternoon….

Artie walked into the bedroom of the Senator's house and heard Jim holler out from the adjoining room. "Did you give out the last certificate?"

"Yes, he passed with flying colors," Artemus said, walking to the doorway. He chuckled at the sight of Jim in a large tub that had been set up in the side of the bedroom. The water was full almost to his chin in the deep soaking tub and grey bubbles were cascading down the side of the enamel edge as he moved. His feet stuck out of the water on the far end, his heels resting on the curve of the tub's lip. "You look relaxed. Smelling better?"

"I hope so," Jim said, laughing. "I was in a lot of trouble with the cook when I tried to walk through the kitchen. I didn't want to go through the front door and get the house dirty but I guess the kitchen wasn't a good choice either."

"Do you get chased by an angry woman with a meat cleaver?" Artie said, pulling a small chair over and sitting down.

"No, but I was stopped in the doorway with an angry look," Jim said "She made me pull off my shirt and boots outside on the back porch. I guess I was lucky to keep my pants on." He paused while his partner laughed, "oh you missed a good show. But how did you make out with the messages? And have you been getting answers? I haven't seen any telegrams for days."

"Elizabeth gives them to me now," Artie said, "Yes, I have gotten a lot of info on a bunch of people here." He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, thinking out loud. "This Mackenzie Jr has a prison record for assault and robbery. He spent two years in prison and just got out last year. His father is no better. I think he made his fortune in bank robberies."

"Sounds like the family career," Jim growled. "And they used their stolen money to buy land and try to become legitimate. I supposed it's good to give up a life of crime and go straight." He stopped as Artie shook his head. "What? You think they are still at it?"

"There have been a number of stage coach robberies by highway men recently," Artie said, "I have spoken to the local sheriffs in the towns of surrounding area. They seem to be very interested in Jr. He seems to have a gang he hangs with and they are always in the area just as the stage gets robbed. I think they are about to gather him up."

"Good riddance to him and I'm glad you didn't run into them riding around," Jim sighed, leaning back in the hot water to dip his head. He went under and back out again, blowing bubbles out his nose, "If we can make it through tonight, the girls will be gone and he will hopefully be arrested soon." Artie sighed, nodding in agreement, obviously worried. "Anything else?"

"I did look up one other person, who turned out to have an interesting past," Artie said, leaning forward, elbows on knees, his brown eyes twinkling. "Our Winston…"

Jim spluttered, "what? Why did you ask about him?"

"Because he was hanging around a lot and I wanted to know who he was," Artie said, hissing, "its useful information to have sometimes." Jim growled and pick up a bar of soap, rubbing up more bubbles. "Anyway, the guy is a Texas Ranger," he paused as Jim started laughing, "what?"

"I already knew that," Jim said, spluttering now between bubbles as he rubbed his stubbled face. "And it was more fun than sitting in a telegraph office. We were up late last night arm wrestling…"

"How do you arm wrestle with a broken arm?" Artie blurted out.

"We did it with our left hands," Jim grinned, moving to soap his hair. "I won but I think he let me win. Someone was going to break another arm; we were too evenly matched." Artie rolled his eyes and sat back, obviously disgusted. Jim flexed his right hand, the caste wrapped in a towel to keep it away from the sudsy water, "it's been feeling better. The cook was going to send the doctor around later. He came to see the Senator's wife and will be staying for the party tonight. I don't know what's wrong with that lady. I have never seen a woman stay inside so much and have constant doctor's care, and…"

"And not appear ill," Artie said, finishing the sentence. "I need to check more on her."

"At least you keep the researchers employed back in Washington." Jim dunked under again and popped back up, less a few soap bubbles. "It's great to be clean again," he declared, rubbing his arms. "I hate to get out of this tub but the water is getting cold."

"The cook didn't offer to deliver more hot water?" Artie asked, the twinkle back in his eyes.

"No but a couple of young helpers did," Jim said, winking back. "the two girls who brought me dinner last night, since you obviously forgot about me. You left me out in the corral with no food."

"I am sure you liked their company better than mine. I bet they even brought dessert," Artie said, standing and moving to his own room. "Besides I was working all evening while you played around with a horse."

"Working," Jim said, surprised, "last night? Doing what? Where were you?"

"So many questions," Artie said, walking into his room. "Do you think that horse will be safe tonight? I would hate for Jr to sneak over and shoot it while you're protecting Zyphelia."

Jim stood in the tub and stepped out onto a pile of towels. Picking one up, he began wiping the water off his face and neck, then rubbing it around his back. "Already taken care of, partner," he called out. "Winston, my Texas Ranger friend," he paused, moving to the doorway to grin at his annoyed partner, "hid him in the livery, way in the back, out of sight. He said he would stay with the horses tonight in case we needed them. He's going to saddle them up during supper since, rumor has it, Jr will be over after dark when people are moving around later during the music."

"I hope that guy is all talk," Artie sighed. He began sorting dress clothes on his bed and pulling of his dust-encrusted traveling outfit. "I would like a nice evening of good food, interesting people, and dancing with lovely young ladies."

"How do you have interesting conversation," Jim asked, walking naked around is room, as he dried his legs and feet, "if you already know all their background? Or do you just laugh inside as you catch them lying." He heard his friend laugh from the other room, "that's what I thought," he sighed., moving to his own clothes laid out on the bed. "It's going to feel good to sleep on a mattress tonight."

Artie groaned, "great, more snoring. I was nice when you were sleeping outside."

"I don't snore," Jim said, pulling on his white, snug-fitting underclothes. "And a real meal wouldn't hurt either. I hope I don't fall asleep in my plate," he added, yawning suddenly. "I should have had a shorter bath and slept for a while." He moved to the dry sink and, picking up shaving soap, began to lather his face. "So you never told me what you were doing last night for work." He paused, listening to his partner moving in the next room. "Artie?"

"Mind your own business," Artie said, trying to sound serious but obviously stifling laughter.

Jim sighed, and picked up his razor, muttering, "nut," under his breath.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"I must congratulate you, James," the Senator said, handing Jim a glass of brandy. Jim accepted with a nod, taking it with his left hand. "Training that stallion was an incredible feat, especially with one arm in a sling."

"Thank you, sir," Jim said, smiling broadly at the older man and noting the heads of nearby guests turning to look at him, obviously curious about the conversation. "I had a lot of help from your man, Winston."

"Yes, Winston," Senator Harris said, sipping at his own glass. "Quiet sort of man. I have never gotten him to talk very much but he seems good with the horses, which is most important to me. I like a man who sticks to his work. So you will be taking the stallion with you when you leave tomorrow?"

Jim froze, his glass almost to his lips. The blue eyes flickered over the rim of the glass as he lowered his voice, "that was our arrangement, sir."

"Yes," Harris said, nodding quickly, "and I never fail to pay on a bet. Your partner is finding that out too, though I never thought last evening would end like that…" The Senator's eyes seemed to look around nervously, finally pausing on the group of women standing at the piano on the other side of the room. Artemus had been banging out popular show tunes on the family's Steinway after dinner, surrounded by many young ladies who had joined him in singing. "Your friend has many talents," he muttered.

Jim turned to watch the group, the girls bursting out in applause after Artemus had finished playing a more complicated piece. "Yes, I am still discovering all of them. Or maybe I never will." He noticed the Senator's wife walking though the group in the crowded drawing room. "Is your wife looking forward to living in Washington? Moving here must have been a great change from her life in New York City." He noticed again how she moved slowly, holding one hand on her stomach. Her face seemed bright and she was smiling pleasantly as she moved from guest to guest.

"Yes, she is," Harris said, "and her condition will be easier to treat in the city. Our country doctor is good but I would like her to be near a more modern hospital."

Jim wondered again what the mysterious condition was but stayed silent, knowing to ask would be bad manners. The woman glided toward them and her husband quickly wrapped his arm around her waist. She nodded pleasantly to them both,

"James, you and your friend Artemus will be missed," she said, nodding toward the piano as a new song began. "I do hope you can visit us in Washington, though the house will feel empty without the girls."

The husband hugged her tighter, "but soon a new child will be there to keep you busy."

Jim's surprised look must have been clear on his face, "Excuse me?"

"I am to have a baby in the summer," Mrs. Harris said, her hand smoothing the dress over her stomach. "That's why I have been confined to my room. The doctor advised me to keep quiet in this heat, especially since I just moved south from the city. Between the heat and the mosquitoes, he thought it would be safer for my condition." She smiled at her husband, "not to mention an older lady having a baby after so many years." Her husband kissed her forehead tenderly.

"Congratulations," Jim said, feeling relieved and embarrassed at the same time, after thinking of so many devious reasons over the past few days. He had thought of her as deathly ill or a criminal so many times, it was difficult to make his mind see her now as a loving wife and mother. "Excuse me, please, I need to check with people outside."

"Do you think there might be trouble tonight?" The Senator held his wife even closer as they both exchanged a worried glance.

"Not really, sir," Jim said quickly, "it's just my job to make sure the night stays quiet."

"As much as I love having my daughters close by," Mrs. Harris said, "it will be a relief to get them resettled in New York. I thank you for seeing them to the station tomorrow morning. I hope all this foolishness blows over."

"I doubt very much that anything will actually happen," Jim smiled, "usually these are just young people talking inappropriately but without the conviction of action." He nodded and moved toward the outside porch area, stepping through open French doors. He stepped into the shadows of the wide leafed plants climbing the brick walls of the mansion. People moved around on the porch, some stepping off the back steps and walking to the garden which was lit by lanterns. He sipped his brandy and enjoyed the silence for a few minutes, his eyes noting the many wranglers that had volunteered to stand as informal guards along the road. Men who had been reluctant to speak to him, had called him Yankee all week, had suddenly had a change of heart and wanted to help protect the Harris family this night. Nothing like being thrown off a bucking bronco and landing on my ass to form a friendship, Jim mused. Satisfied with his plan, he moved further down the porch to enter the large room through another set of French doors. Immediately, the young ladies around the piano spotted him lurking in the shadows of the curtains.

"James," Elizabeth scurried from the group to grab his good elbow. "Your friend is a wonderful piano player and singer. Please join us."

"I don't have a very good voice," Jim smiled, letting himself be pulled along. He moved to one end of the piano as the girls crowded around him. "Do you girls know you are being entertained by a true professional? It took a lot of encouragement to pry him from the New Your City stage."

"I was tricked," Artie said, his hands hovering over the keys. Suddenly the cheerful popular songs were replaced by dark, low keys as he sang a song about being taken by pirates, stopping the words just as Jim recognized the bawdy bar song he usually heard in a tavern full of drunken sailors. "Any requests, partner?"

"No," Jim laughed, "I don't think I know any songs that would be appropriate for tonight. Just keep going and I will hum along."

Zylphia leaned closer to his side, her dark eyes turned up toward his. "Maybe you and Artemus should follow us to the city for the New Year's Eve celebrations?" Her hand slide around his waist, her fingers slipping under the lower edge of his dress jacket.

Artie nodded, obviously excited at the suggestion, "How about it, James? News Years in New York City? Carriage rides with someone special huddled under a bear rug blanket? Hot cider? Dancing?"

Jim looked at his partner and back to Zylphia and shook his head, "Oh, no," Jim said, "Too cold. Besides all the pretty ladies will be wearing three coats and two hats and all I would see is the end of their noses." He leaned down to rub the end of his nose to the girl's nose, delighted to finally see her face blush as the other girls squealed in delight.

"Have you recovered from all your injuries?" another girl hung at the elbow of his injured arm. She slid a slender hand around his shoulder to play with his hair at the base of his neck, trying to earn his attention. "You were so cut by the barbed wire too? And then fell off that dangerous horse."

"Oh, James heals quickly," Artie laughed, winking at his partner. "And he enjoys being thrown off a dangerous horse. He bounces so well."

"Ha ha," Jim said, "I only fell off a couple of times; well, big falls anyway," he paused as Artie let out a snort and hit more deep piano keys, "ok, three big falls."

"Seven" Artie announced as the girls ooohed concerns. "Paid out well to Winston who won the bet." Jim rolled his eyes, and moaned, leaning closer to the girl near the sore arm, feigning dizziness. He pulled his right hand out of the sling and stretched it, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"I thought you were playing music, partner," Jim said. "Don't you know anything we can dance too?"

Artie immediately started to play a slow waltz, as Elizabeth sat down next to him on the piano bench. His partner slide away with one dance partner as the group all glared daggers at the lucky girl.

Later that evening …..

"Will we be lucky enough to not have a catastrophe tonight?" Artemus stretched his tense shoulders as he stood next to Jim in the shadows behind the house. The bright moonlight case shadows over the lawns. The girls had said their good nights to the guests and had gone upstairs to their bedrooms. People were crowded beside the house in flickering lantern light as carriages were brought forward by drivers from the livery house.

Jim sighed and reached a hand into his jacket, checking his derringer. "I hope Mackenzie was all mouth. Most of these idiots are. If you look them in the eye, they back off."

"And then sneak around behind your back when you think you're in the clear," Artie said softly, his dark eyes trying to see into shadows. More wranglers were moving beyond the garden, in the thicker trees. "There are so many men standing guard for you, that I couldn't spot Mackenzie anyway. And you know, James," he paused to look back at Jim, "It occurred to me earlier today that I have no idea what he looks like. I meant to ask you earlier for a description since I never did see him."

"Hopefully it's a moot point now but he is slightly older than Zylphia, maybe twenty." He paused, thinking back to the young man he met a week ago. "Of course he was sitting on a horse, in the dark, when I saw him," Jim said, shaking his head. "He was thin, tall, dark haired," he paused again, shrugging his shoulders. "No distinguishing scars, I guess. Just keep your eyes out for a loud-mouthed idiot."

Artemus laughed, "As my Great Aunt Maud used to say, 'Someone who looks like trouble'".

Jim grinned; amused by the occasional Maud stories his friend seemed full of. "You know, Artie, you should write a book about your Aunt Maud and record all these sayings she had. All these stories you keep telling me would be very amusing."

Artie rubbed his chin, thoughtfully, "not a bad idea, James, except my family would have my head if I told the family secrets. That's why I only tell you. Your job is to keep secrets." He winked and smacked Jim on the shoulder. "So if we don't have any disasters tonight, what's the plan for tomorrow? Sleep late, escort the girls to the train, and head south?"

"You make it sound so easy," Jim said, sighing. "Can we really end this night on such a peaceful thought? It seems so anticlimactic. If this was a Jules Verne story, I wouldn't believe it."

"That's your trouble, James," Artie laughed, looking up at the back of the house as lights came on in the upper bedroom windows. "You read dark and depressing fiction. You need to read some cheerful poetry."

"Ya," Jim snorted, "that must be it. I'm going to ride around for a few minutes just to check out the sentries. Hang out behind the house, will you?"

"Sure, have fun on the horse with no name," Artie said, pulling out a cigar. "Do you have your gun handy?"

Jim patted his jacket, "I need to figure out a way to carry handguns in dress clothes. I want to hide them more securely than just an inside pocket." He walked away, as his partner began to stroll around the back property, cigar smoke following him.

Jim moved quietly into the doorway of the livery and froze at the sound of a lever action rifle clicking into motion. "Winston? It's me," he said quietly into the darkness. He stepped forward, finally spotting the older man, dressed in black, standing at the back of the barn near the black horse. "Thanks for guarding him tonight; it was a huge relief to me." He waked forward to pat the horse on the nose. "Did he give you any trouble?"

"No, he's calmed down so much, it's a miracle," Winston said, stroking the neck of the stallion. "You taking him out now?"

"Yes, I just want to walk the perimeter, be ready to go, just in case." He grasped the bridle and slowly walked the horse to the doorway. Artie's brown horse whinnied softly, obviously not wanting to be left behind. Winston patted it as he walked past. "I just keep thinking something is going to happen," Jim whispered, looking out into the yard again. He watched the last people climb into carriages and wave goodbye to Senator Harris, who stood on the front porch. The black horse nuzzled Jim's neck and chewed on his shirt collar, "All right, big fella," he said, turning to look the horse in the eye, "you going to work with me tonight?" He walked he horse forward into the light of the full moon and swung into the saddle. He pulled his right arm out of the sling and flexed his hand. The hard cast was warn and filthy but still stiff, holding the arm bones together. Against the doctor's recommendation, earlier in the evening, he had cut the material around his thumb and knuckles to give him use of his hand.

"Let's go fella," Jim said, quietly speaking to the horse and relieved that the animal continued to respond to him. He nudged his heels into the dark flanks and the horse walked forward. They moved behind the house and saw Artie standing in the garden, behind the gazebo, talking with some wranglers. He turned the horse toward the craftsmen's shops in the back, looking into shadows and watching how people reacted, looking for faces alert to trouble. Instead everyone seemed relaxed, talking in small groups, or closing their shops, yawning with exhaustion.

"Maybe I'm wrong," Jim said to the horse, leaning out to stroke its neck, "Maybe it is too much Verne and Poe," he chuckled. "Artie will have me reading poetry about flowers or …" A high-pitched scream sliced through the night, freezing every person in the area. By the second scream, Jim had already kicked the horse and they were moving together through the darkness, riding fast back up the road toward the house. Jim knew he had ridden too far from the girls and the seconds it would take to return would be too long.

"Jim," Artie called out, as they both approached the house. "He rode that way with Zylphia." He was pointing toward the woods beyond the house as he ran toward the livery for his own horse.

Artemus barely had the words out as the black horse streaked past him. Jim turned the animal, moving across the lawn toward the road, betting Mackenzie would go down the walking path, used as a short-cut by workers, and re-enter the main roadway. As he crossed the lawn, he remembered the split rail fence. Instead of turning or slowing the horse as the fence approached, he kicked his heels again into the muscular flanks, leaned over the neck and held on. Feeling the animal leave the ground, the horse sailed over the top rail and landed on the hard soil, never missing a step. As they rushed into the moonlight night, Jim was amazed at the speed they were traveling and thought this must be the fastest horse he had ever ridden.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

As Artie ran toward the carriage barn, Winston came out pulling two horses by the bridles. The animals were saddled and already excited by the activity. Artie hurried to his horse and leaped on, shoving the toes of his dress shoes awkwardly into the stirrups. "Are you joining us, Winston?"

"Wouldn't miss it," the older man said, as he climbed more slowly onto his horse.

Artemus and his horse burst down the road and rounded the front porch of the house. The Senator, his wife, and two young ladies were standing outside, all visibly shaking. Artemus cringed inwardly as he streaked by, knowing this was not what they had expected. All evening, everyone had been on edge for a loud, drunken cowboy to storm into the front yard but instead he had come in the darkness; silent and clever. The only alert had been from the poor girl herself screaming in terror.

Artie tore his eyes from the distraught family and raced after Jim. In the darkness, he could just see the black horse streaking across the grass far ahead of him. He cringed again as the horse seemed to increase speed as it approached the three-rail high fence which bordered the lawn. Jim was leaning out over the horse's neck, keeping low, as the animal leaped over the top of the railing, easily clearing the top rail. The horse landed in the road and disappeared into the darkness. Artie urged his mount forward but knew he could never keep up. He stole a look behind him at Winston and was relieved to see the older man close on his heels. Having a Texas Ranger was very comforting as they moved together through the moonlight.

The moon moved behind thin clouds diminishing the light as Artemus moved farther from the Senator's home. The lantern light disappeared behind him as he squinted ahead wondering if Jim was still on the roadway somewhere in front of him.

"He's going for the swamp!" Winston yelled, as he moved up even with Artie. "There are narrow paths through it that people use as short cuts. But it ain't no short cut if you get lost!"

The two men rounded a bend in the main road and saw Jim's horse standing on a sloped edge. The animal's nose was pointed towards the woods and the reins were stretched to the trees. As they approached, Jim appeared from between two trees, still holding the reins. Obviously agitated, he waited impatiently for them to dismount.

"He went into the woods," he gasped, turning to point. "He went right in, there must be a path but I can't see it in the dark." Winston walked one way and Jim walked the other, pulling the horse along with him.

Artie stepped forward, holding a hand out toward a tree and felt a sharp pain in his palm. He yelped and stepped back, pulling a thorn from his skin. "What in the mother of…"

"That's an old thorn tree," Winston drawled, as he and Jim moved to Artie's side. Winston pointed into the woods, "they call them Water Locust since they grow in standing water like this here swamp. Terrible thorns, they will cut you right open, shred your outfit and your horse."

"We'll have to walk in," Jim said, "we can't let the horses get injured." He handed his reins to Winston, "If you don't mind, I would appreciate you guarding this horse. If McKenzie gets past us, he may need a fresh mount. If I don't come out, you can keep him."

Artie looked shocked at Jim's comment but stayed silent. Winston spit on the ground and took the reins, a crooked smile coming to his face. "Hell, Jim, what would I want with this crazy animal. If you don't come out, I'll just let it go wild again. Seems like a waste after all your work though so just watch yourself." He turned and smacked Artie's shoulder, "and you too. Going to be hard to move in there if you can't find a path."

A scream cut through the darkness, not that far ahead of them. Jim spun and plunged between the trees with Artie following close behind. The thorns, some enormously long, tore at their dinner jackets and pantlegs as they moved. Roots, hidden in the darkness, tripped them. Artie tried to stay close to his partner but Jim's smaller size and natural agility allowed him to slip almost effortlessly through the woods. Artie occasionally would catch up when Jim slowed, obviously trying to decide on a direction, and then would hurry ahead. 'At least if I fall behind, I don't get slapped with thorny tree branches," Artie muttered to himself as he stayed a safe couple of yards back.

The clouds thinned again and the moon was suddenly out in full brilliance. The woods brightened and movement was seen ahead of them. Jim stopped to squint through a patch of thickets, seeing the outline of a horse in the shadows. The moonlight shone on the animal's sweating skin and he could see a figure sitting upright. Another figure appeared to be folded over the saddle.

"Zylphia" Jim rushed forward, moving around the thick areas, trying to keep them in sight.

"Jim!" The girl shrieked his name over and over, finally breaking into loud sobs.

Jim yelled out again, "fight back, don't keep moving with him. I'm catching up to you!" He hurried again as he saw a hand raised over the girl. He cringed as the hand came down to strike her and she cried out in pain. "McKenzie, stop! Let her go! We don't want you, we just want the girl back!"

In the darkness, Jim could see the girl kicking her long legs and struggling, finally toppling off the saddle. McKenzie jumped to the ground to pick her up but she struck out, her hands flailing. He finally slapped her across the face and she collapsed out of sight. The man started to pick her up but the horse, nervous from the shouting, turned and raced back up the path.

"Artie!" Jim stopped running and held a hand out to his partner to halt his movement. They both froze as the horse ran past them, just a few yards away. "The horse is on the path!" Jim bolted ahead, moving between trees, leaving bits of his clothes in another thick patch of thorns.

Artie moved ahead, trying to keep Jim in sight. He tried to slip between the thorn covered trees, as his partner had done, but grunted in pain as his skin tore. Stuck, he saw Jim reach the open path and run ahead, quickly disappearing into the shadows. "Jim!" In panic, not wanting Jim to fight Mackenzie alone, Artie ripped through the last of the trees. He gasped in relief when he suddenly found himself on a small roadway, wide enough to drive a wagon. He raced ahead to where the thought Jim had gone. In his haste, he bumped into the back of Jim as the smaller agent knelt on the ground.

"Oh no," Artie gasped, falling to his knees beside Jim. "Is she dead?"

"No, I think she's just knocked out," Jim said, leaning over the girl. He looked up, squinting further down the path. "Get her out of here, Artie, back to Winston," Jim growled, "I'm going after this guy." He leaped to his feet and ran down the road.

"Great," Artie muttered, slipping his arms around the girl's waist. Zylphia was limp, but barely weighed a thing. He stood and tried to adjust her in his arms, finally dropping her head down over his back. He held her legs and, turning back, he hurried up the road, hoping he was not far from Winston and the horses.

Later….

"Jim!" Artie raced back down the dirt roadway, feeling like he was caught in a dream, running in utter darkness, trying to reach something just out of sight. His dress shoes felt loose and he wondered if he had torn them. His clothes hung in rags. He hurried forward, trying to hear sounds over the blood pounding in his ears. "Jim!" He paused, hands on hips, gasping. He reached out to lean on a tree but caught himself just in time. "For the love of God, where the Hell are you," he muttered. He took a few steps forward and paused, head tipped to one side, listening. Sounds of muffled voices came to him from one side, in the woods to the right. He walked slowly to look between branches, squinting down a steep hill, into the shadows. He suddenly realized he was looking down at his partner.

"Jim!" Artie gasped, watching as his friend rolled on the ground, gripping McKenzie. The two men were grappling and struggling with each other, feet intertwined and kicking into the leaves and dirt. Jim apparently lost his grip as McKenzie pulled away and jumped to his feet. Artie pulled out his pocket pistol and shot down the hill, yelling, "Hold it there, McKenzie!" The young man turned and ran, as Jim scrambled to his feet, racing after him.

Not daring another shot, Artie threw himself down the steep hill, trying not to grab the surrounding trees to steady himself. His shoes, one by one, twisted off and he continued in stocking feet, barely noticing, his eyes staying on Jim. His partner quickly tackled the wrangler again, knocking him to the dirt. "Hold him, Jim," he yelled, feeling as if he was stuck in the dream again. If I could only move faster, his mind screamed, as he lunged between two big trees. He squinted into the darkness again to see Jim kneeling on top of the younger man now, bracing his forearm, in the hard cast, over the man's throat, pinning his head down. His left fist rose and fell, hitting the wrangler, over and over. Studying the trees ahead of him, below on the steep bank, Artie chose a path around a thicket, trying to walk more slowly as bits of fallen branches stabbed his feet. He looked up again, to get his bearings, just in time to see McKenzie's hand come up holding a rock. Artie hear a loud thunk and stared as Jim collapsed to the ground. "No!" He leaped forward again, reaching the bottom of the hill. He stepped out to see the wrangler holding a large knife above Jim's back, the moonlight glinting off the steal. Artie pulled his pistol up, screaming again, "McKenzie, don't move!" Instead, the wrangler leaped to his feet, pulling Jim's limp form upright with him.

"Back off!" The young man yelled, dragging Jim a few steps back, holding him across his chest and blocking Artie's shot. "I'll cut him! Drop your gun!" The blade's sharp edge touched Jim's throat and the agent shifted, waking up slowly.

"What?" Jim said, still groggy. He blinked at his partner, feeling awkwardly off balance. "Artie, what happened?"

"I'm going to kill you," Mackenzie snarled from behind Jim's back. Looking at Artie, he snapped again, "Drop your gun or I'll kill him!"

Artie took a deep breath to calm his nerves and stall for time. "Mackenzie, you haven't done anything this serious yet. You don't want to commit murder, especially of a Federal agent." He held his empty hand out wide, waving it, while still pointing the gun at the distraught man. "You grabbed a girl but didn't hurt her so no harm done. Just let him go and you can run off."

"No," McKenzie said shaking his head and dragging Jim back another step. Jim dug his boot heels into the dirt, weakly fighting the wrangler. The young man twisted him and snarled at Artie again, "Drop the gun!"

Artie looked past the man to see a few steps behind him was a large outcropping of thorns. He looked back to see his partner's blue eyes watching him intently, waiting for his move. A drizzle of blood, looking dark on Jim's forehead, flowed out from his hair on the right side of his head. Artie looked again at the thorn covered tree, motioning with his hand, "Not yet, Winston, put the knife down," he said, as if talking to the ranger in the background, "McKenzie will release him."

McKenzie's eyes tried to look behind him and his head fidgeted nervously. "Winston, I ain't got no fight with you!" He backed up another step as Artie approached. "Put the knife down!" Twisting now, trying to watch Artie and the invisible Winston, his panic increased.

The knife slide, biting into Jim's throat and he gasped in pain, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. Then he looked at Artie, silently saying "shoot". He tried to move his good arm but it was twisted behind him in McKenzie's grasp. The arm in the cast hung at his side, underneath the blade. "SHOOT!" he hissed.

McKenzie dug the blade deeper into Jim's throat and glared at Artie, as the agent stepped forward again, raising the pistol to point at his face. "You can't shoot me. You'll hit your friend here!"

"If you're going to kill him anyway," Artie growled, "what difference does it make. Besides Winston is going to stab you in the back in about two seconds." He stepped forward again, knowing the wrangler would back up. When McKenzie did, the thorns stuck him in the spine, feeling like the point of a knife. The man screamed in sheer terror and twisted to face the unseen opponent. In an instant, his head moved out from behind Jim's body, and Artie pulled the trigger. BANG! The two men crumpled to the ground.

"Jim!" Artie leaped forward, dropping his pistol, to grab two handfuls of jacket lapels. He dragged Jim away from the body and sat him against a nearby tree trunk. "Oh, God, are you all right?" Blood dripped down Jim's forehead into his right eyebrow and around his eye. A red welt was swelling at his hairline. Another a red line was weeping on his throat.

"I'm fine," Jim gasped, gasping in a chest full of air. "Good shot, partner," he grinned. Looking around, he raised an eyebrow, "Where's Winston?"

Artie snorted, nodding his head toward the hill top, "with the horses and Zylphia. It was the thorns he felt in his spine."

Jim nodded and looked at the wrangler, sprawled in the dirt, "Is he dead? Maybe we should tie him up just in case. I don't want him to get away again."

Artie pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and put it to Jim's forehead. "I don't think restraints will be necessary. McKenzie has caused his last problem." He gently pressed the cloth to the bleeding wound, his hand shaking. "Are we going to do this all the time?"

Jim reached up to take the cloth, pressing it firmly against his sore head. Grinning, he leaned back against the tree. "I told you this would be more fun that play acting on stage. This is the real adventure." Artie snorted and sat back on his heels. He grimaced as his friend moved the cloth to his throat. "Admit it, returning to New York now would be boring!"

Artie smacked Jim's shoulder and helped him to his feet. "Boring is underrated. But, I suppose someone has to keep saving your butt. Now help me find my shoes." They walked slowly back up the path, leaving McKenzie behind.

Early next morning…Christmas Day…

Jim woke in the clean bed, sheets smelling of fresh soap, with the morning breeze blowing across his face. He lay with his eyes shut enjoying the comforts of the soft bed after sleeping for days on the hard ground in the corral. He groaned, remembering the race through the trees and the fight. He stretched his arms over the sheets, rolling his shoulders, and taking deep breaths. Slowly opening his eyes, he realized one was still half closed. He gingerly touched his forehead and felt a sore, swollen area just over his right eye. Dried blood was crusted in his eyebrow and bits of red flakes were on his fingers when he lowered his hand. "Ouch," he moaned, dropping his hand onto the bedspread. He watched the ceiling for a few minutes, absently listening to the sounds of people's voices coming in through the window. He closed his eyes and listened for sounds of his partner in the next room. Not hearing anything, he wondered if he had gone down for breakfast. "Some people never sleep," he groaned, turning onto his side. He paused, noticing a large box sitting on the floor next to his bed. On top was a red bow. "What the hell is that?"

tbc in the epilogue


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18.

Early next morning…Christmas Day…

Jim woke in the clean bed, sheets smelling of fresh soap, with the morning breeze blowing across his face. He lay with his eyes shut enjoying the comforts of the soft bed after sleeping for days on the hard ground in the corral. He groaned, remembering the race through the trees and the fight. He stretched his arms over the sheets, rolling his shoulders, and taking deep breaths. Slowly opening his eyes, he realized one was still half closed. He gingerly touched his forehead and felt a sore, swollen area just over his right eye. Dried blood was crusted in his eyebrow and bits of red flakes were on his fingers when he lowered his hand. "Ouch," he moaned, dropping his hand onto the bedspread. He watched the ceiling for a few minutes, absently listening to the sounds of people's voices coming in through the window. He closed his eyes and listened for sounds of his partner in the next room. Not hearing anything, he wondered if he had gone down for breakfast. "Some people never sleep," he groaned, turning onto his side. He paused, noticing a large box sitting on the floor next to his bed. On top was a red bow. "What the hell is that?"

There was the soft click of the door shut quietly from the next room. "Artie! That you?" He swung his feet onto the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, watching the open connecting doorway to his partner's room. Artie soon appeared in the doorway, fully dressed, and carrying two large, steaming mugs.

"Good morning, James," Artemus said cheerfully, holding out one of the mugs. "And Merry Christmas, I should add."

Jim reached out and took the mugs and toasted a mock salute to his friend. "And is this a Christmas present," he asked, nodding toward the large box. He waited for Artie to settle on the small desk chair by the window. "What the hell have you been up to?"

"You should open it before I tell you the story," Artie sighed, trying to look casual but his dark eyes twinkled with excitement.

Jim took a sip of the hot coffee and set the cup on the night stand. He reached out and snapped the red bow off the box and tossed it at Artie, "really? A red bow?"

"Lucy's idea," Artie chuckled, catching the ribbon. "She helped decorate it. Said a present had to have a bow."

"You didn't need to get me a present, you know," Jim grumbled, feeling awkward. This was their first Christmas together and it had not occurred to him that agents gave presents to each other.

"Maybe you won't like it," Artie said, sipping his coffee. His eyes held steady, obviously waiting for Jim to open the box.

"Fine," Jim sighed again, prying to top of the box open. He leaned over to look down inside the large container and blinked. Inside was something black with silver conchos. "Are you serious?" The blue eyes snapped up to Artie's. "How did you manage this?"

"Well that's the long story," Artie laughed. "Surprised?"

"Yes, very," Jim said, standing now to reach into the box. He pulled the object out and dropped it on the bed. It was the black saddle from the tack shop, fully finished and polished to a deep shine. The bridle was snagged around the saddle horn. Jim stared at it for a moment and then turned back to his friend, his face clearly suspicious. "Does the Senator know we have this? Or do we have to sneak it out of the house?"

Artie, just taking a mouthful of coffee, sat up straighter, choking and laughing. "No, Jim," he said, wiping his suddenly watering eyes, "he knows. Sit down and drink your coffee and I will tell you how I got it." He waited for Jim to sit on the bed next to the saddle and grab his mug. "It was the night I didn't come out with your supper, I think it was toward the end of the week when you were living with the horse. The Senator was going to play cards with three friends but one had to leave immediately after supper so he asked me to play. He said they always had a foursome. It turned out to be a very interesting evening. I had spoken to the Sheriff in town a few times over the past week about how some of the Senator's friends may have a money making scheme going on with real-estate in this area. The authorities in the area have been watching them, trying to decide if what they are doing is illegal or not." He paused as Jim raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't think they will continue though after that evening. I hinted that I was investigating their shenanigans and it seemed to scare them. I didn't want the Senator in too deep and hopefully he will be too busy in Washington soon. So I hung around, playing for a few hours, talking with them, and ended up winning more money than I intended. I was even throwing good hands away so I wouldn't win so much but it gets embarrassing to fold every hand."

"They were that bad?" Jim chuckled, as he sipped the coffee. He sat on the edge of the bed, enjoying another crazy story his partner always seemed to be full of.

"They were terrible," Artie laughed. "Eventually his two friends left and I tried to end it, saying I was overdue to check on you. But the Senator seemed upset, wanted to win some money back or save his reputation as a neighborhood card shark," he said, pausing to sip his coffee. "So I said I would play one more hand. If he won, I promised to play for as long as he wanted but if I won, he could keep his money if he gave me that," Artie said, pointing to the saddle.

"And you won?" Jim said, grinning.

"All we did was cut the deck," Artie snorted. "Fifty fifty chance and he still lost." He rolled his eyes, "that man shouldn't play cards with anyone but his wife."

Jim reached out to run his hand over the black leather, "was the Senator angry?"

"No," Artie said, "he said I could have this one and the saddle maker could make him another one. But then he said he wouldn't really need another one anyway since they were moving to Washington in the new year and he would be using carriages." He watched his partner admire the saddle. "And the man at the tack shop also seemed happy you were getting it instead. He said he wanted someone to use it for more than a parade. It should be very durable."

"So how many people knew you had won this thing?" Jim asked, looking back at Artie, "The Senator, the saddle maker, and Lucy?"

"Oh, most everyone," Artie grinned, "They all agreed to keep it a secret. It was only since yesterday that it was finished and hidden in my room. I noticed you looked worried when it wasn't in the tack shop anymore."

Jim let out a long sigh, imagining everyone in on the secret. "Well this is a surprise, partner, and I really appreciate it." He winked, "but you aren't the only one giving out surprise gifts this morning." He stood and walked to the dry sink. Opening his razor kit, he pulled out a white envelope. He walked to Artie and handed it to him, and then sat back on the bed, the blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

Artie turned the envelope over, noting Jim's name on the outside. He opened it to pull out four slips of white paper with black printing. "What?" How?" He fanned them out to see four theater tickets, reading the name of the new play they had tried to obtain tickets for before leaving on the trip. "Where did you get these and how long have you had them?"

Jim laughed, enjoying the trick. "When your friends from the theater mentioned that the President was attending the play, I contacted some secretaries at the Secret Service Headquarters office for tickets. The office always has a supply of tickets for agents working undercover at events in the city. I picked them up the morning we left to come here. I have been hiding them ever since."

"Free?" Artie said, giving his friend a look.

"Hey, they're free to you so your record is intact," Jim snorted. "Never paying for theater tickets isn't something I worry about."

"I suppose that's close enough," Artie said, holding one ticket in one hand and the three remaining tickets in the other hand. "And I do know a set of triplets that I could bring with me too." He paused, noting the disappointment in his partner's eyes. Switching one ticket to the other hand, he held out two tickets each. "Or I could ask a set of twins…"

"They're your tickets, partner," Jim said, shaking his head. "You do with them what you think best. However, if you should need help with the twins, I will offer my services."

Artie laughed and tucked them back into the envelope. "I never could handle those triplets anyway." He finished his coffee and stood, "Senator Harris said the girls are staying one more day, to let Zylphia relax after last night's shock, but he said he no longer needs our services. I didn't want to intrude on their breakfast, being Christmas morning, but it appears we can leave anytime."

"I am packed and ready to go," Jim said, standing. "Let me get dressed. We can say good bye to the family and get our horses. I want to speak to Winston before we leave too."

Later that morning, outside….

Jim stood back from the black horse and admired the saddle and bridle. The black leather blended with the animals hide, but still stood out, and the silver pieces shone in the morning sunshine. The horse stepped closer to him and blew, as if impatient to go. "Hey, fella, you want to go for a long ride today?" Jim rubbed the soft nose and patted its face. "You have to do what I tell you though. No more fooling around."

"That's a smart horse, James," Winston said, chewing on his tobacco. "It may never do exactly what you tell it. You two will have to come to an agreement." He touched a concho on the saddle and turned to Artemus. "And I heard how you got the Senator to give you this here saddle." Winston spit on the ground and shook his head in wonder.

"The Senator and I also came to an agreement," Artie smiled, winking at the older man. "And I don't think he will be playing Blackjack in Washington with strangers."

"Blackjack?" Jim said, looked at the horse. "That's not a bad name. I think I'll name him Blackjack." He patted the animal again. "What do you think of that name?" The horse tossed its head in apparent agreement.

Artie and Winston both grinned at Jim, as Artie said, "He may learn it by the time we get to New Orleans." He paused and shook his head. "Too bad about McKenzie. I was hoping it would have ended differently. His family must be very upset though the local sheriff seemed relieved."

Winston looked from one agent to the other, "didn't I tell you boys what happened last night?" Both agents shook their head. "While we were all chasing McKenzie and the young lady, the lawmen were gathering up the highwaymen, including McKenzie's father. That's the only family he had so dear old pa is busy worrying about himself now. There will be a trial before too long and I am sure the bunch of them will be off to a Federal prison. Junior would have been with them if you hadn't shot his head almost clear off."

Artie shuddered with the memory. "First man I ever killed outside of the war. I guess I will have to get used to that idea."

"He won't be the last," Jim said, watching his new partner. Turning back to Winston, he said, "I want to thank you for all you've done," extending his hand to Winston. They shook and then Jim tucked his right hand back into the sling and climbed onto Blackjack. He sat for a minute, waiting for his partner. "And thank you again for the letter of reference."

"Safe travels to Iberville," Winston said, stepping back, "God speed."

As the two agents moved down the driveway and into the road, Artie looked at Jim, "I thought we were going to New Orleans. What's in this Iberville?"

Jim grinned at him, leaning over to pat the horse, "He has a friend who works on a big horse ranch in Iberville, a small town between here and the city. He thought it best if I left Blackjack there for further training and rode a horse more used to the noise of a city when we go on to New Orleans. I thought that was a good idea. It will still take us a few days to make the trip."

"Sounds like a good plan," Artie said, agreeing, "Unless ole Blackjack has separation anxiety."

"They will keep him busy," Jim said, stretching his shoulders. "And we will keep busy in New Orleans for a few days. I have some contacts there you should meet and then I want to relax, meet a few pretty girls, and do some fusionating."

Artie's head snapped around as he looked over at his friend, "Do what?"

Jim paused and looked at him, "fusionating…with girls…"

"That's not a word, Jim," Artie said, chuckling. "But I know what you mean."

"What?" Jim snapped, "Fusionating? Yes, it is?" He steamed as Artie rolled his eyes. "You don't know all the words and I am pretty sure I have read it in books."

"I know all the words you know," Artie laughed. "And I have seen the books you read."

"How about sex," Jim snapped back. "Do you know that word." Both agents burst out laughing, relaxing with the light-hearted conversation after the many days of stress. "You are beginning to make me worry."

Artie wiped a tear from his eye, still laughing, "I know that word and I agree. But where did you hear fustionating?" Jim shook his head and they rode on.

Present day again …

"Did Blackjack like the horse ranch?" Seth said, as Jim paused for a breath, "Did you ever ride him into New Orleans? Did you … " Jim reached out and put a hand on the little boy's shoulder, squeezing it gently, trying to quiet him. Artie quietly chuckled behind them as he lay on the grass.

"Seth, that was a long story," Jim said quietly, "and it's getting late. I think we will continue this another day."

"Awe," the boy whined, "I was going to ask you how you got the train."

Artie moaned and stretched his shoulders, climbing to his feet. "And that's another long story." He reached a hand down to help Jeremy to his feet. The older man stomped on stiff legs. "We need outdoor furniture so we can throw picnics," Artie chuckled. He tussled the boy's hair, "and you can bring brothers and sisters next time."

"You should see Jamie," Seth said, jumping to his feet. "Mom says she is growing like a weed. Funny she is named after a boy," he giggled, holding his hands in front of his face as he looked at Jim.

Jim scooped the kitten into his palm and stood up. "Not as funny as agents with a pet kitten," he said, stroking the soft fur. "But someone will learn to catch mice before too long." The kitten purred and chewed on his thumb.

"Seth," Jeremy said, "I think we had better be going home. Your mother will have dinner soon." The group walked to the horses.

"Young man," Jim said, sternly, though the blue eyes held the usual twinkle, "tell me what you do with your horse when you get home."

Seth stood next to the stirrup of his pony, "I remove the saddle and bridle and put on a halter. And I brush him all over. And after he has cooled off I let him drink water and then I feed him fresh grain and hay." The boy recited proudly as Jim listened closely. "And then I put him in the pasture."

Jim reached out to pat his shoulder, "you are doing a fine job, Seth. A horse is the best friend you can have." He turned to grin at his partner as Artie let out a loud grumble behind him. "And a horse doesn't cook you hot stew on a hot day, either." He stood back as Seth mounted his horse and rode to his father's side. Walking to Artie, the partners stood in front of the train.

"Another day you can tell me about the train," Seth yelled as they moved away.

Artie turned to Jim, "you sure changed that story, partner," Artie laughed, smacking Jim on the shoulder. "I guess that's what basically happened but you left out so many parts I was getting lost."

"He's a little kid," Jim grumbled, "I can't say what really happened! Besides he asked how I got the saddle and that part was accurate. And you never wrote half of it in the report so we don't need the truth coming out now."

They walked into the train together, still laughing at the creative yarn spun that afternoon.


End file.
